To Catch A Wife
by Angkeats
Summary: Sheriff Troy Bolton is a notorious law-man. Thief Gabriella Montez is a notorious jail-breaker, but it's not until she's under Troy's care that her true identity is revealed. The pair share close quarters and it's only natural that love should follow...
1. Chapter 1

_Thank you everyone for sticking with me and for voting! This story came out top so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Isarodas10 for the Spanish translation :)_

**CHAPTER 1**

The nights were as cold as the days were hot in the desert.

Sheriff Troy Bolton settled down for some kind of sleep on the uncomfortable hard ground; protecting himself the best he could from midnight visitors. The snakes were deadly out here.

A scuffling sound brought one of his lash-guarded eyes partially open where he lay; arms folded across his thick chest.

A desert mouse hopped away, making him smirk. At least it wasn't a coyote. He tipped his cowboy hat over his face to block out the bright moon and he snuggled his chin into his neckerchief.

"Goodnight world," he grumbled into his hat before sleep claimed him.

/

Life as Troy Bolton knew it was about to change. He was on a two day trip across the desert to meet his fellow county sheriff, John Strand and the law-officer had a little present for him. A prison-breaker. Not just any prison-breaker. A notorious prison- breaker. Three times the boy had tried; three times he had only just failed.

Unfortunately for the little scroat, Troy was also notorious. A notorious lawman with an air of fearful authority, an eye for detail and a level head. He wasn't like some of the Sheriff's posted in nearby towns that let crooks come and go dependant on how many coins they laid in his pocket- he was a man of integrity and he wasn't going to let his little miscreant get away under his watch.

No way no how.

Luckily he was three quarters through his trip and he was due to meet Strand at the old abandoned bell-house at midday the following day. His horse, Striker, was ready for the journey and Troy could hear him quietly stomping and blowing out air as he tried to settle in the cold night.

It wasn't easy for horses out here, what with all the strange smells; the sense of danger and the cold to unsettle them. But Troy cared for his animal the best he could by putting on his blinkers and wrapping him in a blanket before he'd settled down for the night. He didn't like to see an animal in distress or pain; or a person for that matter.

He might have to use his gun when need called but he wasn't about to go injuring anybody any time soon and when he found eejits stupid enough to then he punished them. Simple as.

Troy tried to drift back to sleep for at least a few more hours before his morning journey began; wrestling uneasily on his back. He'd regret this stint on the desert floor; he wasn't getting any younger and some would say the lack of a woman by his side only made him age more.

He figured he'd weathered his thirty-eight years pretty darn well and he had no plans to go changing anything by tying himself down to a woman. No, he was footloose and fancy-free, just the way he liked it.

No amount of temptation from the local massage parlour had persuaded him otherwise. He knew the girls there offered more than massages and technically, he could have closed them down ten times over but he preferred to keep them under his watch. They were safer that way.

If he closed them down, they'd only move out of town and the girls would be open to all kinds of trouble. They were vulnerable, he understood that and he liked checking in with the Madame of the house; Miss McKessie and he liked being a protector for them- of sorts.

They appreciated it too, everyone was happy.

Everyone but a lonely sheriff.

/

Troy galloped across the hard, dry ground and found his meeting place easily, dropping down to take a drink of water and offering some to Striker. His horse drank needily from his hands.

"Good boy," Troy stroked his mane affectionately, wrapping his fingers around the pistol that hung down his thigh as he heard a noise behind him.

He twisted, checking the approach and he sighed as he recognized Strand on one horse and a small, skinny boy on another.

The prisoner was bound by the hands- behind his back. His mouth was gagged and his hair was cropped. He looked all of eighteen, but Troy knew the boy was older. From what Strand had told him, he was in his twenties, but something didn't feel right as the two men approached.

Two dark, chocolate eyes bore into his and he felt his stomach lurch. Troy squinted, ripping his gaze away to meet that of his fellow law-man's.

"Strand," Troy stepped forward to shake his hand.

John had a firm grip that Troy respected.

"Bolton," the other man tipped his hat.

"This is him?" Troy checked, though it were obvious the cargo on the spare horse was the prisoner they had spoken of.

"I know, he looks small enough but he's strong as an ox and wily, too," John told Troy.

Troy looked up. The boy remained expressionless but there was something about him…something odd…

"What's his name?" Troy wondered, figuring he might put some pieces of the puzzle together if he knew the boy's family.

"Pablo," John supplied.

Troy choked. "Pablo? That's it?"

John shrugged. "He won't tell us anything."

"You caught him stealing?" Troy asked of his crimes.

"Many times," John shared. "He likes nice houses and pocket watches."

Troy nodded. They didn't have any 'nice' houses in his town, but there were a few rich people threading through the settlers.

"You sure he's normal?" Troy wondered, cocking his head not putting his finger on what didn't fit.

John chuckled. "He can play chess with ya and deal a mean hand at cards if that's what you mean," his friend mused.

Troy slid him a look. There were boys who weren't all that into the typical male past-times that got somewhat vindicated for being effeminate. John was one of those guys who would notice if a guy was not what he should be; but Troy seemingly saw something in Pablo his friend didn't.

Pablo was staring at him with a frown.

"Okay, get him down, he's riding back with me," Troy moved on from his misgivings.

"You sure about that?" John checked.

"He escaped from you three times my friend; I know what I'm doing…"

"Well alright," John murmured, "…but he's strong…"

Troy smirked, his stubble scraping against his hand as he rubbed his chin.

"I think I can manage…"

Troy and John wrestled Pablo down from one horse and onto the other, Troy having to vault up behind him to keep him from struggling.

"Wild little fella, huh," Troy mused as he wrapped his arms around the small body of his prisoner, not in the least bit phased that it was another male he was capturing against his chest. When it came to the law he didn't let anything sway him, especially not what other people thought.

"I warned ya," Strand told him as he straddled his own horse.

"Does he speak English?" Troy wondered belatedly.

"Only Spanish," Strand told him. "And none of it made any sense to me anyways…"

Troy dipped his chin in parting. "I know a little…I guess I'll see you around, Strand…"

"Good luck!" Strand called as he galloped off into the desert the way he'd just come; the dust from his departure drifting across the barren land.

Troy tightened his arms as he kicked off his horse and felt Pablo squirm.

"Quédate quieto Pablo...Ya no te vas a escapar mas, eso te lo puedo asegurar..."

"_Keep still, Pablo…you're not escaping anymore, I can promise you that…"_

No reply, just a tension in the petite young man's body. Troy frowned as Pablo's backside bumped against the apex of his thighs. Despite the fact the boy was wearing trousers and a stiff denim shirt, Troy was confused at the softness he felt. He wasn't a pervert but as far as he knew, guys didn't have soft backsides…and that could only mean one thing.

That Pablo wasn't being truthful. Pablo could in fact, be Pabl_a_. But that was crazy, right? That was impossible…there was absolutely no way a woman could dupe a man of the law for so long, let alone someone like John Strand…

Or was there?

But the person in the saddle with him was undernourished and badly fed; if Pablo was _Pabla_ then she had managed to convince them pretty good because if they had known she was a female then she would have been fed better. That curvy backside would be curvier.

He was interested in his wild, insane theory and he knew chance would come to test it. He offered his prisoner some water. Once that liquid had made its way through Pablo's body then he'd need to relieve himself. Then Troy would find out the truth. For now, he just had to wait.

And a long and quiet wait it was.

/

"Necesito ir al baño,"

"_I need to go to the toilet,"_ Pablo called over his shoulder.

Troy arched a brow. It was about time. They would be stopping soon for their first sleep and he was pleased he would find out before they bedded down whether his instinct about his prisoner was right.

"Ok, go ahead," Troy dropped down and let his prisoner have two feet of chain to distance them while they walked towards brush for decency.

"No tienes que vigilarme,nunca lo han hecho antes..."

"_You don't need to watch me,"_ The prisoner complained. _"T__hey never have before…"_

"Y tú te escapaste tres veces antes. Algo me dice que ese puede ser el porqué..."

"_And you escaped three times before."_ Troy mused. _ "Something tells me that might be why…"_

"No puedo ir al baño si me estas mirando,"

"_I can't go while you're watching." _the boy blushed.

Troy pressed his lips together. "O tienes que ir al baño o no, tú decides"

"_You either need to go or you don't."_

A frown hardened his young face and his brown eyes grew dark with frustration.

" ¡Eres un hijo de puta! ¡Justo como los otros!"

"_You are a bastard! Just like the others!"_

Troy lifted his brows at the insult, not sure if he should exert his authority in this moment because he was still waiting to see if Pablo was in fact a girl as he suspected.

"Yo no sé lo que los otros hicieron, _Pablo_," "Pero tu estas bajo mi vigilancia ahora y no te vas a salir de mi vista hasta que estés encerrado en una de mis celdas."

_I don't know what the others did, Pablo." _he said his name deliberately disbelievingly "_But you're under my watch now and you don't leave my sight until you're locked in my cells."_

Pablo squinted tempestuously and spat at him, causing Troy to grit his teeth. He could end up hitting a woman if his belief was accurate. He had to stay patient and force his hand.

" ¿Quieres orinar en el piso al frente mío o en tus pantalones encima del caballo?"

"_Do you want to pee on the ground in front of me or in your pants on the horse?"_ Troy asked.

Pablo swallowed.

"No puedo ir al baño mientras me estas mirando."

"I can't go with you watching."

"¿Por qué no?"

"_Why not?"_ Troy arched a brow.

Pablo looked up at him, his lashes unnaturally full and flicked for a boy. He sucked in a breath.

"Me llamo Gabriella y yo he estado pretendiendo ser un hombre."

"_My name is Gabriella and I've been pretending to be a boy."_

/

Troy had had some shocks in his life, but Pablo's revelation was a little hard to stomach. Alright, so he'd guessed as much himself but this ruse had been going on for some time and he was half amazed and half impressed that the prisoner in his care had carried off such a trick.

Something in his stomach grated, too. Pablo-Gabriella, even, was seriously underweight. He'd have to do something about that. He'd have to get to the bottom of this whole darn mess and it wasn't going to be whilst she relieved herself on the desert floor; with his back turned in a gentlemanly fashion even though he hadn't loosened any of her chains.

He knew it would be a struggle for her but he had no choice. The girl wanted to escape so badly she would try anything; even dress as a boy. He couldn't risk dropping his guard for a minute. But he felt a little confused now; hell, he felt a _lot_ confused.

As Gabriella finished up he helped her back up onto the horse and trapped her under his arms once again; now secure in the fact the backside he was feeling was most definitely that of a woman. Her hair was elfin short; her ears cute and if he had really looked hard he should have been able to tell without doubt her sex.

But now what was he meant to do? Lock her up and throw away the key? No, there was a story here, more to this than appeared on the surface and he'd be damned if he didn't find out what it was.

/

Gabriella ate with the fervored hunger only an emaciated person could really display and Troy lifted a brow as his meager supplies very quickly disappeared to fulfill her empty stomach.

He forwent his own usual large portion to give her more; but he had to reserve a little of his knapsack for the following morning.

"It'll be cold out here tonight," Troy said as he went about clearing up their meal; throwing her a blanket.

He unlocked one of her cuffs and she looked at him, hopefully but he slipped the other cuff over his own wrist and clicked it shut, shoving his hand down his jeans to deposit the key in his undershorts.

"Don't even think of going in my pouch, princess," he warned as he laid back wrapped in his own blanket.

Gabriella didn't complain about the dirty, uncomfortable ground, she just fidgeted until she was comfortable- as far away from her captor as she could manage whilst joined to him.

The stars were out and the moon was high. She watched as Troy tipped his hat down, revealing his messy hat-shaped hair. She envied him his red neck-scarf to keep the cold out and she shivered in her thin clothing. The man smelled good, she mused to herself. Considering they were out in the heat during the day and he'd probably not had a wash for two days; his natural man-scent was strangely alluring.

She could have felt afraid in this moment, in all reality anything could have happened. If John had found out the truth that Troy had worked out so quickly, he might not have been so calm and reasonable. He might have even tried to prove his anger by hurting her. He could have raped her. It wasn't unknown when women were found in men's clothes for the men around them to prove some kind of twisted point by taking what they felt was theirs.

She shuddered; glad Troy wasn't one of those men. Was it possible, then, that he could be as forward thinking as she was? She barely dared to hope. He'd given her the largest portion of food at dinner; he seemed to care on a very basic level at the very least. And suddenly she wondered if she needed to escape anymore.

Then she remembered the reason she did it at all- the stealing, the crime. All those unfed children; all those families with nothing. The odd pocket watch and a couple of broaches from rich people who owned more than enough to really miss it was often enough to feed the poor for months. And that's why she had to escape.

And she had to escape tonight.

/

_What in the cotton-pickin'…?_

Troy jerked awake as fingers made contact with his manhood and for one swift second he thought Gabriella was going for his gun and had somehow missed. But when he rolled over to find his fly wide open and his under-shorts on show, he realized she had in fact been searching for the key to her restraints.

He kneeled over her and pushed her wrists to the ground; breathing heavily with the exertion of his move.

"You're hurting me!" She cried, wriggling.

"You speak English then," he glittered of her switch back to the more common language of the county.

She glared at him. "Get off me."

"Do you want to make this worse for yourself?" He checked. "Because you're going the right way about it…"

"You're going to take me?" She arched, fear striking her eyes as she asked. "A man of the law is going to commit a carnal sin?"

Troy frowned, letting go of her wrists quickly as the shock of her question hit him in the solar-plexus, followed by her freed hand. He quickly dipped into his pants for the key to release his wrist and bind hers. He made sure the chains connecting her feet to her hands was short, leaving her little room to move apart from her squirming.

"It didn't have to be this way," he murmured ruefully as he rose; zipping up his pants.

Gabriella lay confused on the floor. "So he does have morals," she accused.

He turned and squinted at her. In the dark, she looked beautiful, all dark lashes and eyes. Never mind how short her hair was; her face was truly stunning now that he allowed himself to see the woman inside. With a little rouge and some tint on her lips, he'd bet she was a knockout.

"Ma'am, I'm not a barbarian," he arched.

"I'm not a ma'am," she replied sulkily. "I never married."

"Go figure," he joked of her tempestuous nature.

"I am Latina and proud," she raged. "The men of my country like their women feisty."

"You're in the West now, sweetheart," Troy reminded. "Men don't like any of their women feisty let alone Latinas…"

"You too?" She challenged with a jut of her chin.

"Never mind how I like my women," he evaded her question. "If you're not to be called Ma'am then what the hell should I call you?" He wondered.

"Miss Montez," she corrected him haughtily.

He sighed. "I just hope we can keep you alive."

"What do you mean?" She shot him a fearful look.

"Tell me, _Miss Montez_, how has it gone so far, this dressing as a man?" Troy enquired lightly, amused.

Gabriella swallowed. Okay, maybe he was right. Maybe it hadn't gone too well but that didn't mean everyone had to have an issue with her. Right? Oh god, he was trying to tell her she was done for. And now that she apparently had no way of escaping, things could get really tough.

She gave him a doe-eyed look. "Won't I be safe in the cell?"

He didn't even know that he was going to keep her in the cell yet, so he couldn't answer that. But he didn't have much choice. She was still a prisoner. But women found doing the things she had been found doing normally got killed pretty quickly. And he was surprised she had dodged that fate for so long but he also didn't want to be the man responsible for a woman's death- no matter what her crime may be.

An idea struck him.

He was good friends with Madame McKessie at the massage parlour now. He had a few favours to call in. He was sure she would be only too willing to assist, should he ask kindly enough.

And when Troy wanted to be, he could be _very_ kind.


	2. Madame

_Thank you for comments everyone :) _

**CHAPTER 2**

"She needs a bath, a wig and a few dresses," Troy began his list of requirements as Madame Taylor McKessie took notes whilst Gabriella sat beside Troy frozen with fear and indignancy.

"She?" Taylor looked up from her notebook.

"Miss Montez," Troy introduced.

Taylor studied her, then, with a frown. "You're beautiful," she told the frightened girl. "But why dress like a man?"

"She'll need feeding up," Troy interrupted the moment. "I'll pay for everything; just tell me what you need…"

Gabriella darted the law-man a nervous look.

"How do you expect to keep a woman in prison, Sheriff?" Taylor asked.

"I don't," he admitted. "I'm keeping her here," he added, dropping his bombshell.

"What?" Taylor and Gabriella both echoed their surprise.

Troy looked at them both, reminding them of their positions in society. No woman should ever speak to a man directly so, let alone a Sheriff. They both bowed their heads submissively, but Troy wasn't trying to exert his male authority- far from it. He was trying to find a solution and he hoped his idea wouldn't sound as crazy out loud as it did in his head.

"Gabriella can work for me, be under my constant supervision. She'll spend her nights here and so will I. To the outside world, she'll appear to be a new, exotic import for your thriving little business but I'll make sure that no harm comes to her," he added, passing a look to his prisoner who merely pressed her lips together. "The town will think I'm indulging in the pleasures your establishment provides," he continued.

_And most of all, Gabriella will be well cared for_, his conscience added silently.

Both women stared at him.

"If I take her back to my place, it'll be seen the wrong way," he added emphatically. "A Latina? In my house, unchaperoned? I'm a man of the law."

"But visiting a whore-house is permitted?" Gabriella inserted pointedly.

Troy gritted his teeth. "Apparently it's more acceptable than taking a mistress."

Taylor actually began to nod. "He's right," she told the young, vulnerable girl. "Townsfolk don't take kindly to men and women living together without going through a courting. Especially Troy in his position," she added.

Troy nodded too. "Then you think it can work?"

Taylor smiled. "I'll do everything I can to help."

"Thank you," he blinked down his own set of thick lashes and then looked back to his prisoner. "It's better than being locked in a cell," he offered.

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose so."

"Let's get bathed so we can get some shut-eye," he sighed tiredly, rising to stretch.

"I'm not bathing with you!" Gabriella denied.

"You don't have a choice, I told you, you're not leaving my sight," he reminded.

"But I will be free tomorrow! You'll have to trust me then!" She argued.

"Actually I'm going to shackle you and leave you here until I can trust you and _then_ you can help me out," he considered with a smirk.

Gabriella o'd her mouth at his audacity and jolted as he dragged her through to the bathing room. She didn't know where to look when he started undressing right there in front of her while she stood with her limbs locked together.

He turned and grinned at her as he filled a tin bath with hot water which was heating on the fire in the room. Evidently Taylor had money to run hot water at all hours, Gabriella noted, maybe her guests liked to be clean when they…

She swallowed. She didn't want to think about what Taylor's guests got up to, as it was she'd had to turn her back as Troy had sluiced water down his body; now completely naked and completely unashamed at what she saw.

"You know, it's rude to be naked in front of a lady," she called accusingly as she stared at the wooden beams in the room and tried not to imagine what he looked like. She had only seen a flash of his muscled body; she'd turned so quickly she hadn't caught sight of his…well, of anything else. Even now, it made her blush thinking about it.

"Tell me when a lady enters," he called back, making her grit her teeth in annoyance.

How dare he! Just because she was skinny and dirty and had short hair didn't mean she wasn't a-

"Your go," his soft, husked voice in her ear startled her.

"You need to unlock me," she held forth her wrists.

He smiled patiently and made sure the door to the room was bolted, holding her wrists with his hands as he unlocked them.

"You'll have to bathe in your undergarments," he instructed. "I'm not letting you go."

Gabriella jutted her chin up. "Then you may as well undress me, too," she griped.

He blinked lazily. "I'll close my eyes but I'm not letting go."

"Fine," she sighed, watching as he also unlocked her ankles and while he was bending, she could have taken advantage of the moment to kick him in the face but something made her hesitate.

He was actually being quite kind. He was allowing her to bathe, after all. They hadn't let her do that before. And although he was infuriatingly possessive; she knew why. He could have taken her back there in the desert, especially as her hands had been down his pants; and he could watch her salaciously while she bathed; but he was being as much of a gentleman as he could in the circumstances so she relaxed a little.

She undressed carefully; finding him frowning as she stripped to her undergarments; her big bloomers and bandages around her chest to hide her breasts becoming visible. He had blue eyes like diamonds- sharp and intense and they met hers in that moment and asked silently why she was covering herself up.

A breath had hitched in her throat at how attractive he made her feel, just by looking at her and nothing more. And then he had closed his eyes as promised and she had finished stripping to step into the luxurious tin of hot water.

She didn't think twice, she quickly sank to her knees and submerged herself in the blissful warmth of the liquid; only slightly dirtied by Troy's recent use. It was still the cleanest water she had bathed in for a long time and the rose-scented soap Taylor left out was like heaven to her. She almost wanted to eat it, it smelled so good.

"Hmm," she smiled, using one hand to soap herself while Troy held her other wrist firmly and stayed on edge like a tiger stalking prey, listening for her movement; predicting any attack.

She was beyond attacking anyone right now, she mused as she let out a groan of bliss. All those aches she carried; all that pain…the discomfort of having her wrists bound; the cuts and bruises she collected form being pushed about. It was like every malaise was miraculously treated in the pool of delight.

She stood, reaching out for the towel Troy had just used, finding she had to step out of the bath to do so. She quickly wrapped herself and rolled her shoulders.

"Will Madame have nightclothes for me?" She asked timidly.

Troy opened his eyes, ignored her question and very carefully checked her wrists for soreness, frowning as he found chafing from the cuffs. When he replaced them, he set them looser- a risk as she had such small hands she may be able to free them, but he didn't like seeing her hurt.

He shackled her ankles and twisted his lips. "If you give up the idea of escaping then I won't have to keep doing this," he mused softly.

She swallowed as his gaze drifted over her bare shoulders.

"Some night clothes?" She prompted.

He nodded and took her back through to the room Taylor had assigned for them and there they found a long white cotton nightdress for Gabriella and full cotton striped pajamas for Troy.

"I'll sleep in my shorts," he decided of the restrictive nightwear.

Gabriella frowned, not sure how she was going to get dressed until Troy helped her; both of them ready for bed within short minutes. A knock sounded on the door.

"I assumed white cotton full-length was appropriate," Taylor remarked of Gabriella's shrouding gown.

"Very," Gabriella mused of her virgin status.

"Well, make yourselves at home, breakfast is served at seven, I'll expect you both at the table," she remarked as she left the room- and left a very quiet awkwardness behind.

"Do we have to share?" Gabriella frowned at Troy.

"You have a mattress and pillows _and_ a quilt, quit complaining."

"Can't you just cuff me to the bedstead?" She enquired.

Troy gave her a wicked grin, one that flashed a dimple she hadn't seen before, apparently it had been hiding under his stubble.

"I know this is a whore-house but I don't plan on makin' you my whore," he quipped of her faux-pas as he stripped down the bed covers.

"Ugh," she grunted in frustration.

"Look, you go below the sheet; I'll lay on top of it, then you can't be accusing me of anything inappropriate," he decided.

"Being in my bed is inappropriate," she argued.

"One more word and I'll go lock you in the jail," he warned. "Would you really prefer a stone bed, toilet out in the open and no bedding to this?"

Gabriella swallowed. No, of course she wouldn't. But she still didn't trust him.

"Good night, Sheriff," she said stiffly in reply.

He sighed into the dark as he blew out the lamp.

"Goodnight, Miss Montez."

/

Troy had gone out after breakfast to leave Taylor to work her magic on his prisoner whilst he checked in with the business-owners and residents of the town; making sure all had been well during his trip into the desert.

Luckily for him, no-one much knew about the new arrival yet and he was keen to keep it that way for now. But he knew Gabriella's presence would not go unseen for long. She was too damn beautiful for her own good and that would only get worse when they dressed her.

For now, they could restrict her to the upper part of the building; the bedroom and the wash room to keep her out of the way of the visitors and customers of the parlour; but his heart thumped fearfully with the thought she might get seen; and chosen, by one of the men looking for a girl.

He had promised her safety and he knew Madame would adhere to his wish but he couldn't expect the ladies of the house to be prison-guard in his absence.

No, he'd have that particularly delightful job all to himself and he wasn't sure it was going to work, yet, but he had no option other than to try. Gabriella's safety depended on it.

/

Gabriella sucked in shocked breaths as Madame McKessie pulled on the laces of the corset she had loaned her- a corset that Gabriella felt was two sizes too small.

Having become accustomed to wearing men's clothing and relishing in the roomy garments, this new costume was a little bit of a shock to her system. Why did women wear this stuff, she wondered? Trousers and a shirt were far more comfortable.

"Do all the women wear this?" Gabriella asked her new friend, although she knew full-well the answer. She hadn't seen a woman wearing anything else other than herself.

Taylor smirked. "Yep."

"Is it meant to be this tight?" Gabriella asked next over her shoulder. She had braced her hands on one of the pillars in bedroom whilst Taylor helped her dress.

"We'll get it tighter once you're used to it," Taylor mused.

"Tighter?" Gabriella made a pained face.

"The men like it," the black lady arched a fine-groomed brow.

Gabriella frowned. She doubted the men would like her in such attire. She barely had breasts to speak of and all this tightening was to show off those mounds, surely? The boned, structured corset certainly squeezed the air out of her lungs so she was sure it was also designed to enhance her bosom.

She peeked down, finding her small offering cushioned perfectly and sitting proudly at the top of the undergarment; showcased quite nicely she thought. It was just a shame she had to lose the ability to breathe to get such an effect.

"What happens when the corset comes off?" Gabriella remarked as Taylor lifted a pale blue dress off the bed and helped her on with it.

"By the time your gentleman finds his way under your layers, he'll be so enamored, he won't care," Taylor countered candidly and Gabriella actually found herself laughing.

"This is beautiful," Gabriella grasped the lovely cotton of her skirt in her hands and brushed down the non-existent creases, for one second feeling like a princess.

"It fits you perfectly," Taylor agreed with a nod.

Gabriella looked up, biting her lower lip. "What about my hair?" She asked nervously.

Taylor smiled. "I have something. But I have to put these back on first…" she picked up the cuffs Troy had left behind and locked them gently around Gabriella's wrists.

The small girl accepted her fate alarmingly well, Taylor observed. She hadn't once tried to bolt yet and the lack of escape attempt worried her. Surely this duplicitous criminal was hankering for freedom- female or otherwise?

Still, she carried on with her task, carrying in a long, curly black wig.

"That's for me?!" Gabriella gaped.

"Yes, miss," Taylor nodded.

"But how will I keep it on?" She panicked.

"Grips," Taylor showed her the small metal pins that would hold the heavy fake hair set to her head.

"Ouch," Gabriella frowned sulkily.

"You shouldn't have cut your hair, then," Taylor arched lightly.

Gabriella scowled. "I had no choice."

"No?"

"I'm not just a petty thief," she defended. "I stole from the rich and gave to the poor- there are children starving out there all because I'm stuck in here wearing this ridiculous costume!" She fumed as Taylor stabbed her in the scalp with a pin accidentally.

"Why don't you let the state worry about the starving children?" Taylor wondered.

"Because they are the ones causing this to happen!" Gabriella angered.

These people knew so little! They knew nothing about what the fat cats in office were seeing and ignoring. They knew nothing about her reasons for stealing. All they knew was what they saw outside their doors every day. She saddened at that.

"Gabriella," Taylor lifted her chin with a kind look. "The Sheriff is being very kind to you, you should be grateful you are here with us and try and enjoy your time here."

The Sheriff, huh? She squinted at Taylor, wondering if she was serious. She could see that she was. She wondered fleetingly what Troy might have done had he not discovered her real identity.

"Is he scary?" She asked only, Taylor knowing exactly what her question meant.

"He's notorious around these parts," Taylor conceded. "No mercy."

Gabriella darted her a look. "Will he hurt me?"

Taylor made a face. "Of course not, you're a woman."

"That makes a difference?" Gabriella wondered.

"A big one," Taylor mused. "The Sheriff doesn't take kindly to females being man-handled," she shared.

"You…?" Gabriella's unasked question hung in the air between them like the cobwebs on the rafters.

"He protects us," she shared softly, as if divulging a secret. "He knows what we do here and he doesn't let any one of us go uncared for."

Gabriella misinterpreted her words and gasped rather loudly; regretting her reaction as she then felt lightheaded.

"My dear, are you so innocent?" Taylor asked with an amused smile. "A woman of your history I would believe not…"

"Madame, I am spotless," Gabriella assured firmly.

"You have mistaken my words," Taylor touched her arm. "Sheriff Bolton cares for us only in the fatherly sense. A physical presence. Nothing more."

Gabriella nodded, feeling embarrassed. She had made a big deal over nothing and it didn't matter to her either way how Troy cared for these women, but it did interest her as to why he didn't indulge in the evident offering of girls at the whore house.

"They are all so beautiful," Gabriella remarked of Taylor's troupe.

"Have you been spying?" The older woman smiled.

Gabriella smiled too. "A little."

"Your hair is done," Taylor confirmed and Gabriella moved toward the mirror in the room; startled at the image staring her back.

A beautiful woman stood there, with long, curling tresses in raven, wearing a perfect blue dress that nipped in her waist and pushed out her breasts and made up just lightly with lips, eyes and cheeks. She could hardly believe it was her.

"Nobody would ever know…" she murmured.

"Nobody ever would," Taylor agreed behind her.

"Will Troy like it?" Gabriella wondered.

"It's what he asked for," Taylor remarked.

Gabi gazed at her. "Thank you." She offered simply.

"You're welcome. Now, you must stay up here and not venture down," Taylor instructed.

Gabriella swallowed. She wanted more than anything to see if any of the visitors would pick her; but she knew she wasn't for sale the way the other girls were. She had never even slept with a man let alone seduced one. She could barely imagine she was capable but then dressed like this, anything felt possible.

A formal knock sounded on the door, jolting her.

"Come in?" She called back, her wrists bound together as she turned toward the door.

"Gabriella?" Troy stood, frowning at her, his strong weathered face tilted to one side in disbelief.

"Yes, it's me," she arched softly.

"Holy snakebite…." Troy swallowed down what he really wanted to say and just stared. Hell, he didn't just want to just _say_ stuff; he wanted to _do_ stuff, too. The woman was a danger dressed like this! Her breasts threatened to set free from their cage in her corset; her dress accentuated her tiny waist and the hair that was fake tumbled down her shoulders perfectly. She was amazing, pure and simple.

"It's just a dress," she accused.

"No, no I am pretty sure that is not just a dress," he argued.

Gabriella shot him an angry look. "Stop staring at me!"

"Well, you look a little different," he excused with a rub of his hand across his scratchy jaw. She wondered what that re-growth felt like against his fingers…what it would feel like against her skin. She shook her head free of her thoughts, surprised by them. Suddenly she felt like a woman and she didn't like it one bit.

"I don't like it," she decided. She didn't want to be stared at this way. She didn't want her ribs to ache so; her breasts to be shoved into pleasing mounds just for men to ogle. She didn't like the restriction the dress gave her to move- to run, even. Now she could see his rationale behind dressing her up.

"There are more…appropriate dresses," he offered after a moment clearing his throat while he found a suitable word.

"Appropriate?" She repeated.

"Ah…demure shall we say?" He offered, flicking a look to her collarbone; only she knew it was actually lower; at her cleavage line.

"Without a corset?" She asked hopefully.

His eyes met hers. "A woman without a corset?" He repeated, dumbfounded. It was like a lady going without pantaloons. It was insanity and quite the opposite of demure.

Gabriella sighed. "I want to be a man again."

"Believe me, you don't," he husked, the rough timbre of his voice making her shiver. He was doing it again! Making her feel pretty! She didn't want to feel that way, not with him, not whilst she was under lock and key and most certainly not while she was in a whore house!

"Don't tell me what I do or don't want," she remarked tightly.

Troy lifted his brows, not accustomed to being challenged.

"I have a job for you. I'll get Taylor to find you some work dresses. You'll come to work with me tomorrow," he clipped.

"What is the job?" She asked, half excited, half annoyed.

Troy smirked.

"You're going to be my secretary."


	3. Invisible

_You guys have me grinning. You know who you__are :D_

**CHAPTER 3**

Gabriella had never typed. She had learned to read and write but she hadn't had much growing up, certainly not a type-writer. Her father had been a farmer, always out on the fields, her mother stayed at home and took care of her and baked.

No-one in her family was a scholar.

And yet Troy seemed to think she was capable of being his _secretary_. The man really was insane, she mused.

"I can't type," she offered as a stumbling block.

"You can learn," he batted back. "I have enough filing to last you a lifetime which should be about right for your sentence," he remarked.

"I got five years, not life," she arched.

"Well, you might get through the most of it in a year or two," he considered.

"Great," she rolled her eyes.

" ¿Que es lo que te pasa? ¿Prefieres una celda en la cárcel a la comisaria?

"_What's the matter? You prefer a jail-cell to stationary?"_ Troy asked in her native tongue.

"En realidad creo que prefiero una celda"

"_Actually I think I might__,"_ she chattered back.

Troy pursed his lips, putting his hands to his hips where his fingers naturally touched his holster.

"Do you ever quit whining, woman?" He asked.

She glared. "My name is Gabriella."

He sighed, turning to leave. "I don't know why I bother," he pulled up the bedroom door behind him and brushed by Taylor who was on the landing with lemonade for her guest. She frowned at Troy's sunken head.

"What's the matter, Sheriff?" She enquired.

He turned with a bemused smile. "I think I'm doing a favour and even that isn't gratefully received…"

Taylor nodded. "Give her time. It's all new to her."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Do me a favour?" He asked.

She nodded. "Name it."

"Find out what the last Sheriff was like will you? Find out what he did to her…" Troy posed as thoughts began to cross his mind. There might be reasons to explain Gabriella's reticence to be involved with his suggestion; there might be reasons why she didn't trust men. He'd like to get to the bottom of them. Although he couldn't imagine that while she was posing as a man that there was any reason for her to mistrust men at all, still, he wanted to know her better.

And Taylor was just the woman to find out.

/

Troy sucked in a breath and sighed out, rolling into the big bed with a sigh. He was washed; dressed in his cotton shorts and a vest; bare of his gun and protective badge.

After visiting with Gabriella at lunch, he'd headed out back to Canyon Creek and found three outlaws making home in an abandoned food shack on the edge of the bridge that crossed the creek.

They'd put up a good fight and he and Striker had done well to stay alive and he had put his horse to bed with somewhat of an emotional appreciation that his fellow deputy was still in riding condition. He didn't know how well he'd fare without his alert animal.

As it was, he'd took a tumble or two and thrown a punch or two and dodged a bullet or two. He ached and hurt as a result.

The woman in his bed was small therapy but he wished she was more than a prisoner right now. He wished she could roll over here and rub him sweet. Rub him sweet, hard and rub him till he shot his glorious load over her fingers; he smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and let himself imagine how that would feel.

He berated himself the pleasure of even imagining. The girl was a guy when they'd met and he had no right finding her attractive, least of all because she was a thief and a sharp-tongue besides. Who wanted a woman that whined so much anyway?

Not he, that's who.

He fidgeted and thrashed his head about on the pillow.

"For god's sake, some of us are trying to sleep!" Came a hissed, annoyed whisper.

"I'm not stopping you," Troy remarked, clambering onto his side which made the old iron frame creak noisily.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" She arched, half genuinely curious of his fidgety state. The other half was really annoyed at his selfish awakening of her.

"Nothing," he arched back with an agitated sigh of his own as he promptly rolled back over onto his back.

"Do you have ants crawling on your backside?" She accused.

Troy spurted out a breath of laughter. _Did he what?!_

"No, everything just hurts," he admitted.

"Getting old, huh," she insulted.

"I'm two off fourty," he shared. "Runnin' around after bad guys don't get easier…"

Gabriella shifted and he heard the clink of the cuffs adorning her wrists.

"You had bad guys to run after?" She wondered then.

"Yup," he affirmed.

"Tell me about them," she encouraged.

He chuckled. "That's not really the way it works, angel," he broached.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Telling you 'bout other criminals…" He explained. "I don't wanna be givin' you ideas…"

She rolled her eyes but he wouldn't have seen in the dark.

"As if I need their help."

"True," he mused. "You never did tell me how you escaped Strand…"

She smirked. "No, I didn't."

He smiled into the dark; He guessed she never would, either. And he'd never tell her about his trouble. That's just how it was.

"Goodnight, Miss Montez," he ended their conversation before he said something he might regret.

"Goodnight Sheriff," she answered back.

/

"Ow!" Troy cried in pain as Taylor applied some very firm massage to his aching back; along with some ointment she claimed was passed down generations of her family. All he knew was that he smelt like a sting weed and he didn't much like the back-breaking pain he was enduring.

"Quit howling!" Taylor commanded. "You're like a big baby!"

"It damn well hurts!" Troy cast with a squint, rising onto his elbows as she stopped her ministrations for a moment and he nervously pre-empted her next move.

"It will damn well hurt when you go throwing yourself across a desert like you're twenty all over again," she chided. She loved this man like one might love their brother; she certainly held enough affection and regard for him to be able to speak this frankly.

Any other man; especially one in authority, would not allow a woman- let alone a black woman and a whore- to talk to him so. Taylor appreciated that Troy let her.

"Well, aren't you meant to be doing something that helps?" He appealed. "Not making it worse?!"

"It's gonna hurt to bend you back the right way," she mused. "Stop complainin'…"

"Is everything okay?" Gabriella ventured into the wash room in her white nightgown and surveyed the scene.

Troy was laid on a wooden bench; topless. Taylor was attending him somehow and Gabriella had heard the commotion. She felt a little out of place being here, seeing this, but she guessed if Troy and Taylor wanted her to leave one of them would direct her.

"The man is stubborn as a mule," Taylor told their visitor and Troy just put his head back down and groaned.

"Is he hurt?" Gabriella checked.

"Yup," Taylor pursed her lips and brought over the pot of ointment she had just made up- her second batch.

"I thought…he said last night…I didn't believe him…" She stuttered ineffectively.

"Oh he's in pain alright," Taylor arched a brow. "And it's only goin'ta get worse…"

Gabriella watched as the dark-skinned woman slathered the thick ointment onto Troy's back, then used her elbow to ease his sore muscles.

"There's another way," Gabriella piped up, hearing Troy's painful groans at the rather robust treatment of his strains.

"Oh yeah?" Taylor pursed her lips and cocked a hip at the skinny Mexican girl.

"Can I show you?" Gabriella asked.

"Be my guest…" Taylor stepped back with a disbelieving brow arch.

"Oh thank god," Troy cast out at the relief from Taylor's retraction.

"Oh shush," she chided him as Gabriella stepped up.

She took a nervous breath in and ran exploratory hands over his smooth skin; surprised at how muscled he was under that thick layer. And those muscles were beat.

She glided the heel of her palm up Troy's back, showing Taylor how the long, smooth stroke eased the tightness and spasming muscles beneath.

"Like this," she breathed, repeating the motion.

Troy let out another cry, but not in uncomfortable pain this time. In pain still, but a kind of satisfied easing of that pain as she worked her magic.

"Where did you learn that?" Taylor wondered of the slight young thing.

Gabriella shrugged. "Someone did it to me once."

"Really?" Taylor posed nosily.

"Oh god, that's amazing!" Troy interrupted the two women, sensing a tension there as he lay prone on his front.

"You should do it," Gabriella stepped back from the wooden bench and bit her lower lip.

"You're the one with a debt to pay," Taylor remarked as she walked out of the room, her heels clipping on the wooden floor as she went.

"I'm dying here," Troy prompted as Gabriella watched the darker woman go with a degree of fear.

"She doesn't like me," Gabriella worried of the house owner. She really wanted Madame to accept her; maybe even be her friend if that was possible.

"It's not to do with you," Troy murmured; relaxing now to the softer strokes of Gabriella's hands.

"Clearly it is," Gabriella argued.

"I've protected her and her girls for a long time. She's seeing all I'm doing for you here…I think..." He paused.

"She's jealous?" Gabriella guessed, surprised.

Troy made a pained noise as she hit a knot and worked through it.

"Do I sound egotistical saying that?" He wondered of his comment of Taylor.

"No, it makes sense," Gabriella allowed.

"You could have shuffled off by now, I sure as hell couldn't chase you," he noted of her loyalty.

"You're in a lot of pain," she returned, out of observation more than in reply but still, her words fit.

"You don't say…" He let out another long sound to punctuate his sentence.

"You showed me kindness," she justified. "I am repaying it."

He tried to get up but she pushed him back down.

"I'm not done."

He lifted his brows and let out a sigh, watching her feet move about the room. He wondered for a second if she was going to take his advice and escape but as he listened to her movements, he found she was pouring hot water and soaking a towel in it.

Eventually, she brought it over and laid it upon his back.

"The herbs need to infuse," she offered. "Your muscles are still in spasm and the heat will help. In a moment I'll ease them again and you'll be able to move then."

"This didn't used to hurt this much," he mused of his stint in the outback.

"You felt your back hurt when you fell off your horse didn't you?" She posed knowingly.

Troy swallowed. "Yeah…"

"Well, _then_ what did you do?" She asked.

He cleared his throat.

"Exactly," she replied to his non-answer. She knew full well what he did without him even telling her. "You should have stayed down."

"Then I wouldn't be laying here," he countered.

Gabriella sucked in a breath. He'd injured himself so badly just to stay alive; she'd had no idea his job as Sheriff was so dangerous. Strand just sat about eating most of the time; or doing paperwork. He had men on duty to do the tough work.

"Why don't you hire some guards," she suggested.

Troy let out an amused breath. "I don't trust them to bring in the real bad guys," he mused. "But thanks for the suggestion."

She sighed, lifting off the towel. His skin was pink with the heat and red in patches where she'd rubbed hard and where Taylor had dug into his skin.

"This might be tender," she offered apologetically before starting her easing massage all over again. By the time she was done, he could barely keep an eye open.

He sat up sleepily and blinked at her.

"You didn't learn this from someone else," he stated.

Her brown eyes met his.

"I hope you feel better," she offered, turning from the room to get ready for her first day of work.

/

"Well, well…"

The Southern drawl was not unkind, but Gabriella arched at it.

Troy had insisted on shackling her ankles whilst she sat at his desk, sorting through his paperwork. The man himself was busy cleaning out the cells which for a short time, were empty bar two outlaws he had brought in the night before.

One had died in the gunfire he'd told her. She guessed how he'd injured his back after he'd shared the news.

She had therefore, taken to her task as studiously as she could manage considering her history of escaping. She hadn't given up, yet. She was just delayed somewhat. Distracted, even. Still, that didn't matter right now because a tall, good-looking blonde cowboy was grinning at her in a way she didn't much appreciate.

"Oh, aquí esta el premio idiota,"

"_Oh, here is a prize idiot__,"_ she spoke in her first language to unsettle him.

Somehow, his smile just grew deeper.

"Oh, Mexicana?" He observed. "Even better…"

She glared. " ¡Quita tus sucios ojos de mi!"

"_Get your filthy eyes off me!"_

"That language of yours is very appealin'" the man moved inside the door towards her and she stood, unable to run, but with the desk for protection.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

He paused. "I'm Ryder Wilkins, cowhand extraordinaire," he introduced. "And who may you be, beautiful?"

"My new secretary," Troy threw back the screen door to his office and stood with his arms folded as Ryder turned to face him.

"Your secretary?" He repeated disbelievingly, flicking another look up and down Gabriella before turning back to Troy. "A Latina?"

Gabriella swallowed in relief at the change in focus for her visitor.

"I employ whoever has the credentials, Ryder," Troy mused.

"She has the credentials alright," Ryder flicked her a grin.

She didn't smile back.

"She has work to do," Troy told the town cow-hand and all round idiot.

Ryder nodded. "See you around," he winked at Gabriella before he left and Troy came inside to check on his prisoner.

"Are you okay?" He checked simply with a squint.

She sighed. "Yes."

"Why don't I believe that?" Troy replied.

Gabriella flicked him a look. "In moments where I feel unsafe, I would like to be able to run," she arched with gritted teeth.

"Trouble is, you'd run far, far away," Troy smiled with an amused look.

"I don't like men looking at me," she grumbled and sat back down.

Today her dress was brown, far less revealing than the one of the day before. She had her wig back on and some make-up but she still looked stunning. Any woman in town would love to be doted on the way Gabriella obviously would be by the man at her side. So why was she shunning the attention?

"Do you have a gentleman waiting?" He wondered.

"Would I have let you sleep in my bed if I had?" She returned.

He licked his lips, ran a hand over his stubbled jaw and took off his Stetson.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot," he broached belatedly.

Gabriella smirked. "You forced me to urinate before you; sleep in my bed and now insist I have my ankles shackled whilst the town's desperado's wander in unguarded…I would say that was a wrong foot besides your kindness and generosity," she added as a by-thought.

"If you're worried about Ryder you don't need to be. I will always be a step away from you." He assured.

Gabriella felt surprisingly girlish at his words. She tingled all over and shivered with the feeling. Why did she like that idea? Of being within a step of this man? Of never being farther than his reach…so close he could wrap her up and protect her if need be. She had no right yearning for that.

"How's my desk looking?" He wondered instead, changing tack.

"Like a pigsty," she offered.

Troy gave her a long look.

"Well, I'm glad we had this chat. I have to go make the outlaws their lunch, excuse me Miss Montez," he said bemusedly and he turned and stalked out of the office with an uneasy gait from his back pain, something Gabriella watched with a tinge of sympathy as he went.

/

The incident with Ryder reminded Gabriella of a time before she became a thief. As she sorted Troy's paperwork into two piles- one for filing, one for him to look through- she found her memories of those old days tumbling through her mind.

Guys like Ryder used to attend her all the time. They used to flatter her, some even tried to woo her through courting but her strict upbringing and constant insistence for a chaperone had eventually driven her suitors away.

She used to wear pretty dresses, she used to be a pretty girl. Then something had changed. The streets of her already poor town became poverty stricken. The families became destitute. The children wandered aimlessly, hungry and doe-eyed and she had felt for every single one of them.

She had left school and at the young age of sixteen she had been faced with the overwhelming thought of marrying and becoming a mother such was the inability to take further studies and forge a career. But she hadn't been happy with that. She had wanted more. And she had wanted more for the children and families surrounding her.

So she had left home, changed her appearance and stolen from the rich to feed the poor. And she had been good at it. She was small, she was stealthy and she was fast.

If only she hadn't gotten caught.

She wandered out onto the verandah of Troy's office, taking a look down each side of the street. He was next door in the jail house; she could hear him sweeping up. Her ankles were shackled but she could easily walk away.

She might even find someone willing to break her free if she was lucky but she didn't want to face the reality of how she would pay them back.

She swallowed as the heavy reality hit her; sagging her weary body.

She couldn't escape.

/

"Are you hungry?"

Troy's voice sounded behind her as she stared wistfully down the street. She turned and nodded.

He lifted his chin and gestured her inside the jailhouse where he gave her a cheese sandwich followed by plain sponge. She looked up at him, studying his handsome face, wondering about him, about his town, about his life.

He seemed like a loner, a man in charge of his destiny and yet he studied her as equally as she studied him. He seemed like he wanted her friendship, her counsel even.

"What do townies do on weekends here?" She asked lightly, surprising him for his thick brows rose on his forehead and he gave her a glimpse of a grin that fully revealed would be devastating.

"Dance," he offered. "Drink."

She nodded. That sounded about right. She had been swung around a dance or two herself before…well before she became a thief and a man besides. She wondered what the chances were of her being allowed to attend. Zero if her instincts were right.

"Are prisoners allowed to attend?" She asked anyway.

He smirked. "'Fraid not. You'll be locked up in the jailhouse Friday night."

Gabriella frowned. "Can't I stay at the house?"

"Taylor and her ladies all go out on a Friday," he mused.

Gabriella swallowed. So she'd be assigned a cell next to the two outlaws. How lucky.

"I see," Gabriella commented quietly.

After lunch she had gone back to the office with Troy and while he answered his papers, she began filing the others. It was dark when they got back to the house.

"I made you dinner," Taylor told them as they came inside and Troy took his hat off as a mark of respect and dipped his chin in thanks.

Gabriella sat at the table and looked around at the beautiful women beside her; wondering how it must feel to be desired so. She found Troy caught up in an animated conversation with the woman next to him and she noted his attention was probably drawn there because the lady was wearing a rather revealing dress. She was also blessed with breasts, Gabriella mused. She could never hope to hold a conversation or induce such a boyish response from the Sheriff when she looked like a boy herself.

She tried to console herself with the fact Ryder Wilkins hadn't minded what she'd been dealt in the bosom department but the thought didn't ease her. Instead she made her excuses and retired to bed early, leaving Troy to converse with the big-breasted lady without her by his side to distract him. Not that she would, of course.

She was invisible.


	4. Prison

_Thanks to:_

_Hisboo_

_Pumpkinking_

_Fishing_

_Troyellafan_

_Secretreader_

"_Guest"- there's a few of you so add your name or at least an initial with your review so I can tell you apart ;)_

_Livelaughlove_

_Stars Walk Backward_

_FFWorm_

_Gwyn- 3_

_Babyvfan_

_Milly4_

_Summer1010_

_Liveyourlife_

_Cncgrad_

_Lynn_

_Bryant_

_Yeti (Haiii :D)_

_Lifesuxthenudie_

_Emilyjayden_

_AddyD90_

_Most of you have been with me all the way and some of you have read my back catalogue lol. I must say that I do use a lot of words out of context in my writing (and my speech if you speak to me) I like to think of it as my own unique lingo so if it annoys you from a grammar perspective then…oops lol. But I doubt it's something I will stop doing in all honesty :D Happy reading guys and gals._

_p.s warning for this chapter- strong adult language for those who may want to bypass_

**CHAPTER 4**

"Ah, Jesus," Troy groaned as he tried to roll out of bed the next day. His back had seized in the night again and he closed his eyes in pain.

"Do you always have to wake me?" Gabriella complained from her side of the bed, still curled up and with no intention of moving.

"Well, you're coming to work with me, so yeah, I do," Troy husked in a sleep-rough voice, straightening slowly to stretch his sore muscles.

"Don't you want to bring your friend from last night?" Gabriella arched; swallowing down the lump in her throat.

She sounded like a jealous school-kid! And all because Troy had given his attention elsewhere. The man could seduce whoever he so wanted, it was none of her concern and yet by sharing a bed with him, she felt strangely possessive of him.

Troy meanwhile, had sensed Gabriella's mood from the night before and found it amusing she felt jealous.

"They say not to mix work and pleasure," he drawled, deliberately trying to incite her. At least it might motivate her out of the bed.

"Humph," she made a disgusted noise and pulled the cover over her head.

"You don't like Candy?" He asked of his conversation partner. "She seemed very…_attentive_," he described with a grin.

"Any more attentive and she would have been in your lap," Gabriella mumbled under the covers, but he still heard and he bit his lip to stop his laugh.

"What was that?" He feigned ignorance.

"Nothing," Gabriella called and threw down the cover in surrender. "Let's just get to work," she sighed.

"Great idea," Troy flicked her smile and began to tug off his nightclothes to get dressed. He'd had his wash last night.

"What are you doing?!" Gabriella pulled the covers back over her head.

"You sure are prissy for a girl that dressed as a guy," Troy teased, pulling on his underwear followed by his Sheriff uniform. Really it just consisted of jeans and a checked shirt, but it made him feel powerful somehow. He ran a hand over his beard and decided it wasn't too long. He could shave tomorrow.

He looked over at the bed.

"I'm not a prissy," Gabriella argued.

"Sure you are," he countered. "See you at breakfast," he added and walked from the room with the confidence of a man who knew he was respected.

She wished she felt that way, she mused.

/

Taylor had dressed her in a yellow dress today, it had a white bib that covered her small breasts and Gabriella had been thankful for the disguising material. Despite the fact she was eating like a pregnant woman, her weight was still low. It was going to take time to recover her old curves and she missed the days she had looked at herself naked and been proud of her Latina heritage. There was nothing on her behind much to be proud of, she considered, but still, she would get there.

Tidying Troy's office was becoming a welcome reprieve. She spent the next few days consistently working in the hope he might change his mind about locking her in on Friday night, but when it came time; she shuffled into the cold stone cell and turned on him with doe eyes.

"Look-ee what we have here!" Jason, one of the outlaws cooed.

Troy gave him a stare, then looked to Gabriella and noted her vulnerability. He'd not seen it before, not sensed her fear apart from when she thought he might rape her, but this was different. She was silently begging him not to lock her in.

"They can't hurt you," he told her assuringly.

She went and sat on the stone bench on the wall farthest from the connecting cell. She looked at the two men there sharing and swallowed.

"We like exotic girls, don't we Stanley?" Jason crowed.

"Yeah, we do," Stanley licked his lips, both men now staring into her cell like she were an animal in a cage.

"Behave you two," Troy told them firmly. "I'm not beyond whipping your behinds," he added.

Jason cackled. "Whip hers, I wanna see that!"

Troy flicked a look to Gabriella. She wouldn't be able to use the latrine in front of these bozo's he mused. He'd have to shorten his night of freedom to collect her.

"I'll be back soon," he told her and she merely turned her back to him and scooped her knees into her hands as she sat sideways, resting her head on the wall.

He swallowed down his misgivings at leaving her here and climbed the steps up to the foyer of the jailhouse where he locked the door behind him.

He looked to the sky and prayed he had done the right thing.

/

"Aren't you gonna take that dress off and show us your Latina dancing'?" Jason goaded as Gabriella sighed and prayed that this night would not last long.

"All the Latina's dance," Stanley added.

"Well, I don't," she shot tiredly.

"Aww, that's no fun," Jason sulked.

"Tough," she cast, irked.

"Come on, pretty, don't be like that…"

"Perhaps you would like to dance for me?" She challenged by return.

To her surprise, Jason grinned. "Sure…you gonna suck me after?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Not if you were the last man on earth…" she muttered.

"She's a virgin," Stanley guessed astutely.

Gabriella frowned. How did he know? Was it so obvious? Did she wear her chastity like a shield?

"I love virgins," Jason commented. "Nice and tight…"

"Ugh," Gabriella moved from her position on the bench and wandered toward the front of her cell where she would better see when Troy was approaching.

"Woman like you don't want foreplay, do ya?" Jason continued his disgusting remarks. "Just sink it right in…"

"Shut up!" Gabriella span round and cast out in annoyance.

"Ooh, fiery," he grinned. "I like fiery…"

"Just stop," she begged between clenched teeth, balling her hands and shaking with anger and something else- shaking with fear. She didn't care if these morons were locked up behind bars in the cell next to her, it frightened her how they spoke, what they thought of her, it frightened her that should they ever find a way free, that she would be their victim.

"Fast and furious…you'd like that huh?" Jason insinuated. "I'd fuck you like a man should fuck his woman…"

Gabriella put her hands over her ears and went back to her bench, balling herself up as the tears came. They streamed down her face as Jason's base remarks made their way through her barrier.

"I'd make you bleed, little virgin…I'd fuck right through ya…"

/

Troy squinted into the dark of the jail house and quickly lit a lantern to see his way better. It took him a few tries due to the whiskeys he'd consumed, but although his gait was more relaxed, he still stalked through the quiet building with authority.

He heard the sound of sobbing as soon as he unlatched the cell room door. He quickly hastened forwards to check on Gabriella's safety.

She was alone in her cell. The two men in the cell next door were asleep while she cried into her skirt; something that made him swallow painfully. He unlocked the door and came inside.

"Gabriella, what happened?" He asked.

She hitched a breath. "Nothing. Nothing happened."

He frowned. "Then why are you crying?"

She swallowed back her tears and dried her face. "Take me home now," she looked up and begged.

He nodded, helping her up and assisting her as she shuffled through the jailhouse and out into the night.

He watched as she looked to the stars and whispered a prayer.

"Gracias Dios," _"__Thank you God__,"_ she prayed.

"What happened back there?" He asked again, tense with protectiveness.

"You left me there, Sheriff," she arched. "Why should I tell you?"

He brought her inside the house and she was accosted with music and the sight of men and women fornicating; all over the room. She instantly huddled closer to Troy as he escorted her through the lively room and up to the bedroom they had been assigned.

"Is everyone obsessed with sex?" She arched crossly as she waddled over and sat on the bed with a sigh. She was fed up of being cuffed, of being shackled. She was fed up of being surrounded by people who had sex every day of their lives while she went untouched, wasted.

She was fed up of being here, in this bed with a man she could find attractive, a man of the law who owned her as a prisoner. She was fed up that, too. Of being caught, of being unable to escape. She just wanted to go home to her mother and father now and give up her wild dream of feeding every starving child.

It was all too much. Five years of being locked into ceils with degrading men? Five years of watching women sell their bodies? Five years of seeing Troy flirt with women who had a right to call themselves women while she sat on and watched- flat-chested and a poor excuse for a girl?

She hardly realized she had broken down into tears again. It was only the touch of Troy's hands to hers that startled her; as he peeled her shaking hands away from her face.

"What happened?" He asked a third time, this time his voice was soft and low and held a tone that warned her he wasn't going to give up.

She hiccupped and looked up at him as he stood before her and he seemed to sense her fear because he came and sat beside her.

"Those men you left me with," she began on a sore voice. "Those men were horrible!"

"What did they do, Gabriella?" He asked, sucking in a breath. A breath that came from the shock of her honesty and the pain of his guilt.

"They kept talking about what they would do to me!" She cried. "They knew I was a virgin, they said they would make me bleed, that-"

Her sentence was cut off as two hard; unforgiving arms quickly wrapped her up and pulled her against an equally hard and unforgiving chest. She felt Troy's breaths slew out against her hair.

"Oh god," he whispered, squeezing her tight.

"They wouldn't stop," she mumbled as her lips trembled and tears washed down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he husked, pained. The thought that anyone could say such things cut him deep inside but the thought that _he_ had left her there to suffer that, hurt him even more.

"It's all men want, isn't it?" She accused. "Down stairs, those men…"

"Men have needs," Troy agreed with a sigh. "It just depends how civilized they are as to whether they control those needs," he added.

She frowned. He was saying he had those needs to, but controlled them?

"But last night you and Candy…" She ventured, confused.

"Candy is a lovely girl but I don't want to make love with her," Troy countered.

He talked about making love, she mused. The men downstairs, the one in that cell, they weren't talking about love; they were talking about taking a woman in a very basic sense. They were talking about hurting her.

"I'm so scared," she hitched, afraid of her future here.

"You don't need to be," he stroked a hand down her hair and she felt the wig slip away from her scalp and she let it.

Troy smiled softly at the mound of curls and laid them on the bed.

"Sorry," he offered gently.

"It's okay," she countered equally softly. "Maybe without it those men will not want to rape me," she considered, running her fingers through her crop.

Troy frowned and cupped her face, running a gentle thumb over her ear.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Just as you are."

She pursed her lips and looked up, meeting the intensity of his blue eyes. She was still in his arms and she liked it. She liked it a little too much.

"Then you would take me?" She wondered, not afraid with him.

"Never," he assured, flicking his eyes over her face, making her feel that kind of beautiful a woman only felt when a man truly desired her. "I would never let anyone hurt you." He added.

She swallowed. "What those men said, is it true? Will I bleed?"

Troy brushed a thumb down her cheek and dropped his hand, as if realizing he was getting in way too deep here.

"It happens to all women after their first time," he eased her worries. "It doesn't hurt as much as you think."

_Because he would know, right, she mused?_

"It doesn't have to hurt," he added softly, looking right into her eyes as his soft, firm words settled deep inside her. Deep inside her where she felt a warmth fan out over her belly and a moistening between her thighs.

Was this arousal, she wondered? Was this how it felt to be with someone?

She jolted back from him and cleared her throat.

"I'd like to bathe now," she offered forth her wrists.

"I think you best wait until morning," he garnered, glad of the change in subject. His breeches were getting tight and he didn't like to explain that.

"The baths will be occupied?" She guessed.

Troy smirked. "I imagine so."

Gabriella nodded sadly and curled up on the bed on her dress.

"I'll take the cuffs off so you can change," Troy offered and eventually she drifted off to sleep with the sounds of laughter, music and delighted cries echoing in her ears.

Just none of those sounds came from her.

/

Gabriella was free.

She had stolen the keys from Troy; unlocked herself and now she was enjoying the most exquisite bath she had ever had.

She must be crazy to choose opulent bathing over the freedom of the open road, but here she was, sluicing water down her small, slim body and running her hands over her wet flesh to feel for her slowly returning curves.

There still wasn't enough to her; still not enough to be considered a woman but the feel of her own hands on her skin aroused her. Something had happened last night- it was like Troy had the key to another lock deep inside her and he had unlocked that, too.

Right now, she marveled at the fact she had dipped her hand inside his shorts to retrieve her cuff keys and that the action hadn't made her blush. Well maybe when he had groaned in his sleep and rolled over, but still, she was becoming a woman all over again and at first she hadn't liked it but today…well, today felt different.

"There you are!" Came a hastened, relieved sigh from Troy behind her.

She gasped and covered her breasts, quickly reaching for a towel.

"Don't look!" She cried, quickly wrapping herself but Troy was already across the room.

He had caught sight of her nakedness but that wasn't his reason for advancing.

"You went in my pants for the key!" He accused astutely.

She shrugged. "It didn't wake you."

He ground his teeth. It had woken his body though. He'd been hard when he woke and he hadn't fathomed why until he had clocked that she was gone. He'd run straight out into the street, finally climbing the stairs to wash and he'd had the shock of his life on finding his prisoner there. She could have been halfway to Mexico by now.

He stared at her as each breath slid in and out of his lungs.

"You're playing with fire if you touch me again," he warned.

She lifted her chin. "You think you're the first man to force me? Just try it," she challenged.

He frowned. "I wasn't talking about forcing you," he retracted. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

"The kind who makes threats," she noted.

"I meant I can and will lock you up in the cells," he argued.

She stiffened. Which was worse? Taking a risk with his manhood or being subject to the vulgar and perverted comments of his outlaws? She'd rather be his mistress.

"I'll do anything not to be put back there," she cast out suddenly, shamed at her submissiveness.

Troy lifted his brows. Anything? Well that sure sounded like an interesting invite, but he wasn't going to take her up on it.

"Good. I need you to ride out with me today. We have a monument to record." He explained. "Dress for the desert."

Gabriella frowned. Ride out with him? To where? To record what monument? What was he talking about?

She turned to open her mouth to ask him but the damn man had pulled his vest off and was lowering his shorts to wash in her old bathwater; allowing her a long and wistful glance at the back of his naked body. And oh god, what a body it was, she considered. His glutes were beautiful, his thighs strong. She knew already how wide those shoulders were, how sensitive those little dimples above his backside were.

She sucked in a breath and watched him enjoy her bath. There was something so erotic about that, watching him bathe in her leftovers. She licked her lips and blamed the whore-house for making her feel this way. She had never been such a creature of desire before she came here, these concubines had her all a fluster.

"Care to scrub my back?" Troy asked amusedly as he caught her watching him.

She snapped her mouth shut and stalked out of the room, ignoring his request.

Oh god, how she wanted to, though. How she wanted to…


	5. Can't Sleep

**CHAPTER 5**

"Ready to roll?" Troy asked as he brought Striker over to the porch of the house and found Gabriella sitting with Taylor, dressed and made up like the townspeople would expect a woman to be.

She nodded and looked at him as she rose.

"We're sharing a horse?"

He nodded once. "I still don't trust you completely," he mused.

She rolled her eyes. "Despite being free of cuffs for a full two hours and not attempting escape?"

"You could be lulling me into a false sense of security," he settled behind her on his horse.

Gabriella felt surrounded by his masculine body and swallowed down the urge to smell him.

"If I wanted to run, I could," she boasted simply by return.

Her emphasis was on her wanting to. Or not as the case may be. Troy didn't miss it.

"Do I take it that you're not wanting to, then?" He enquired warmly in her ear as he set Striker off into a trot.

She chose to ignore him; she found it best not to encourage the man. Instead she relaxed back against his chest and took in her surroundings as they travelled. It was vast out here- dangerous and scary if travelling alone but she had Troy as her companion- her guide, even.

They soon found the Native American monument Troy had spoken of.

"You're recording the Natives monuments?" Gabriella awed as Troy gave her a notebook and pencil as they approached the wooden totem pole.

He tilted his Stetson. "If I get to them first and make a record of it, it means the state can't claim the land," Troy shared.

Gabriella startled at his words. "You mean they'll destroy it?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"But that's awful," she gasped.

He squinted at her. "Which is why we came today."

She was just letting his words sink in when a whinnying sounded in the distance signaling another horse-rider approaching.

"Councilor," Troy tipped his hat at the well-fed man giddying up to them.

"Bolton," The man returned, apparently chagrined.

They both knew why the other was out there but neither spoke of it.

"Got yourself a filly?" Councilor Tom Gordon asked of Gabriella.

Her hair was braided; wrapped up. She wore a long sleeved beige dress. To all intents and purposes she looked just how she should- like a scholar or assistant. But Troy didn't much like the way Tom was eyeing her.

"My new secretary," he introduced without names.

"Looks like she could use some breaking in," Tom observed of Gabriella's tense state under his watch.

Troy merely lifted his chin. "I'm sure I can manage."

He was staking claim to her, she might have been annoyed if she wasn't thankful. Somehow he was becoming her protector and it irked her that she liked it.

"Well, if you ever want a firm hand, let me know," Tom remarked and turned his horse to gallop off, leaving Troy squinting after him.

"Animal asqueroso." _"__Disgusting_ _animal__,"_ Gabriella muttered under her breath.

Troy smirked at her term and turned back toward her.

"You're certainly a draw aren't you?" He mused thoughtfully.

She scowled. "I preferred dressing as a man at least I didn't have to put up with animals ogling me," she complained.

"I would have thought any woman would be pleased with the attention," he observed lightly.

"Not in the least," she assured firmly.

He tilted his head. "Why is that?"

She glared at him. "Would you enjoy being meat for the vultures?" She wondered of the crying gulls above them.

He smirked. "Perhaps not."

"Neither do I," she frowned crossly.

"You can't deny your own beauty, Gabriella," he stated then. "You should use it to your advantage."

"By sleeping with him and stealing his money?" She offered sweetly by return. "I am a woman of honour."

"I got that," he drawled amusedly of her insistence she would remain virginal.

"You think that is so wrong?" She argued.

"No, not at all. In fact I think it's impressive," he assured.

"Do the men of your town not want their women to be pure?" She wondered.

He smirked. "I guess it's not something that they have a choice about."

"I may as well be ruined," she thought aloud. "If that's how the men are here…"

"You plan on bedding one of them?" He enquired with a curly smile.

She looked into his blue eyes. "If I am to use my beauty to my advantage it may be necessary," she considered.

She was wondering if in fact, she could use her supposed beauty to dupe the very man before her. The one who suggested such a thing at all. If he was so easily seduced then she may do well to lose her innocence and persuade him to set her free. She imagined that some of the garments Taylor owned might assist her little plan.

"Don't give away a gift like that," Troy murmured softly, lowly, gazing into her face.

She jutted her chin. "It is mine to give."

He blinked, licked his lips and flicked his gaze to her lush mouth.

"You can't get it back once it's gone," he counseled.

She held his gaze until her eyes flickered, forcing her to look back at her notebook. There was something about his intense look that made her want to forget about the rest of mankind and just surrender herself to him; wholly and completely.

"What am I writing in here?" She asked stiffly, avoiding the evident attraction that pulsed between them.

Troy read out some map references and the type of monument it was and the race of Indians who had placed it there and soon enough their trip back to town was upon them.

Troy dropped Gabriella back at the house whilst he checked on his outlaws and she found herself spying on the girls from the top of the stairs while they chattered and danced to the piano playing provided by Taylor.

They lifted their skirts and charged about the room. They touched their bodies with firm, exploring hands. Gabriella watched wide-eyed as those hands cupped flesh; thumbed nipples and grasped between thighs in a sexy, outrageous show of pleasure she had never been accustomed to before.

Was that how it felt, to touch herself? Like she would want to arch her body that way and cry out so loudly? She wanted to try it; she wanted to see if she could do what those girls did so easily. She took herself to the bedroom to try.

Admittedly, she couldn't find the courage to bare herself completely whilst in someone else's house, but she laid on the bed and ran her hands down her body experimentally; squeezing her thighs together as a tingling began there.

A sweet kind of ache throbbed as she let her small palms fill with her breasts; her thumbs gently peaking the tips there under her corset. It had been hell itself pulling off her dress; throwing off her wig had been heaven. She couldn't reach around to find the laces of her restraining undergarment but her hand fit beneath it and the tweaking of her buds made her bite her lips against the cries she wanted to release.

No-one would hear, she considered distantly as she let her hand run down her body towards her pantaloons. She let her fingers run under the cotton; for the first time experiencing self-love and for the first time, letting herself go to another place where pleasure and desire joined hands and ran carelessly into the night.

She was damp; she noted, hot, damp and throbbing. How strange. She felt empty, like she needed to be filled and she let her fingers broach that intimate, sensitive place to test how deep her channel was; how she felt inside.

It was tight; pulsing. She cast back her head and groaned. A small nub near her patch of thick dark curls ached suddenly and she took her fingers from inside herself to circle the bundle; whimpering as lights hit the back of her eyes.

Oh lord, this was ecstasy! It was unlike anything she had ever felt! No man made her feel this free, this sexy…no man made her want to bite her lip and cry out so…no man made her ache with wanting him so….

_Except Troy_.

Her conscience provided the thought against her will and she stiffened for a moment; not willing to let the Sheriff spoil her moment. But then something happened. Something she entirely didn't expect and she absolutely didn't understand.

Her hips lifted off the bed; her fingers dove back into her heat and she called his name; out loud. It was followed by a cry of desire as she stretched her thumb to take over the place of her fingers at her clit where the combination of her touch inside and out drove her higher; closer to where she wanted to be.

She didn't care that the heightening of her passion came from imagining Troy in her arms; she didn't care that it was his fingers she pictured filling her intimately instead of hers; it didn't matter that as she rode out the crest of a wave she almost didn't comprehend; that is was his name she panted over and over in place of his absence between her thighs.

How would he fill her, she wondered? Would he be gentle, or rough like the others? She let a smile grace her lips as she relaxed back; her eyes still closed to the world around her. If she had opened them she would have seen.

She would have seen Troy stood there, silently in the doorway, watching her in her final throes of her climax. She would have seen the darkening of his eyes, the swelling of his body. She would have seen him stalk away, closing the door gently behind him as he headed for the bathing room.

But she didn't see any of it as she let her satisfied heaviness drag her into sleep. She was in a world of her own and she wanted to stay there.

/

Falling asleep with a corset on probably wasn't the best idea, Gabriella mused as she stirred, wincing as she felt the constrictive garment dig into her body.

She opened her eyes to find it dark and quiet in the house and she quickly checked across the bed for her partner, finding him there, sleeping on his side with his arms folded, an action that pronounced the bulge of muscle in his arms.

She bit her lower lip, feeling guilty. She had let him infiltrate her thoughts earlier, had let him be the stimulation in her moment of desire. Not only had she embarked upon a journey of her own body that she had never broached before, but she had let that man be the gunpowder that finally blew her apart.

She rolled up, sighing as the tight embrace of her corset pained her; not knowing how to escape its confines without waking at least one member of the household.

"Can't sleep?" Came a husky, rich voice from behind her.

She twisted, finding Troy now awake.

"I fell asleep in this god awful thing," she explained of her discomfort.

Troy pulled himself up and eased out of bed, slowly padding across the floor, minding the noisy floorboards as he went. The last thing he needed was to wake up the house and start the women gossiping.

"Stand up, I'll unlace you," he offered tiredly.

Gabriella looked up at him, feeling for one moment a little afraid. He might have proved himself to be a gentleman but he was removing her underwear after-all. She stood slowly.

He smiled lop-sidedly, somewhat bemused at her hesitancy.

"I won't look, I promise," he swore, although one could argue he'd had a good look earlier and not turned away, but then that was a little different, he mused.

She swallowed and turned, rubbing her bare neck self-consciously, like she wished she had hair to swipe to one side.

His breath felt warm on her neck and he smelled of tobacco and whiskey.

"Have you been drinking and smoking?" She asked as she felt his surprisingly gentle fingers begin to loosen her corset. She cupped the cloth against her breasts.

"I may have indulged in a cigar and a whiskey, yeah," he admitted with a warm roughness to his voice that made her ache inside. "Is that ok with you?" He asked drily.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "You do as you wish," she replied.

"Hm," he frowned as his unlacing became arduous. "Why isn't it getting looser?"

"At least I can take a breath now," she commented thankfully of his work so far.

He began stripping the laces from the bodice itself rather than just loosening them as he had been before.

"Troy," she twisted to frown at him, finding his intent stripping of her somehow arousing. Would he be that impatient when undressing her to ruin her? God, she hoped so…

"Darn devil thing…" he muttered, finally reaching past her into the drawer where he pulled out a penknife and flipped it open.

"Troy, no!" Gabriella gasped at his intention, too late for he had already sliced through the remaining ties and the bodice was left hanging from her slight frame with only her hands pinning it in place.

"You best get dressed," he graveled of her semi-naked state.

She turned and glared at him. "You shouldn't have done that!" She accused. "I might have gotten dressed in a ladylike manner had you not bared me so!"

"You and your damn propriety!" He argued back. "Your honour is protected," he pointed out. Although earlier, he had seen her honour displayed in a very frank, very sexual way and he was fed up fighting his attraction to her.

No, it was more than that.

His _need_ for her. He couldn't explain it, couldn't fathom it, he just knew it lay there, deep in his belly and every time she looked at him or came to bed with him, it deepened and he only wanted her more. And god forbid he had seen that display earlier and heard his name upon her lips because now all he wanted to do was rip every damn shred of cloth from her body and take her the way she had cried out for him to as she had brought herself to her pinnacle alone.

His breaths slew in and out of his body as she glared at him.

"You think my honour is in shielding my body?" She challenged with bright eyes. Bright from anger, not desire, as he wished they would be.

"You can look at me, Sheriff and take what you want, but a gentleman would let a lady cover herself instead of cutting her corset from her body!" She accused.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers and she quivered as the dark depths of those blue orbs told her a thousand things about how he felt right now, least of all what came out of his mouth.

He took the flapping edge of her remaining dignity and ripped it away; baring her torso to him, two perfectly small, handful-sized breasts with dark peaks that puckered in the cold air. She gasped and drew her frightened gaze to his.

"A gentleman may act in propriety," he ground out as he cupped her face. "But I can assure you, he is undressing you all the same," he promised darkly as he tugged off his vest and helped her on with it.

He didn't miss the shake in her hands or the vulnerability on her face. She had really thought he might hurt her and it killed him inside.

"A gentleman would never be so callous," she insisted with a jut of her chin.

He smiled but not in amusement. "Callous? You think I'm callous?"

She opened her mouth to squeak out a response, but it was too late for his lips were upon hers. Firm and strong and owning; but not brutal, not punishing. She whimpered and fidgeted; he half thought she might break free and slap him across the cheek but she was comforting herself; sinking into his body as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

He ran his arms around her waist and she wound hers around his neck as he lathed his lips against hers; speaking with those movements every word he couldn't say aloud. He wanted her, oh god, he wanted her, he groaned deep in his throat with the evidence of it as he pulled her up against his now nearly-naked body and enjoyed the very primal urge she awakened in him.

She made a noise of dissent and struggled against him as his arousal brushed her skin.

"Troy," she pushed against him and he instantly let go, albeit panting with heavy needful breaths as she did the same, both getting their bearings and breaths back.

The vest he had loaned her evidenced the hard peaks her of her nipples beneath, a sign of her arousal and something he took in consolation. He waited for her to speak for he was sure he had no words to convey how he felt in this moment.

She merely turned toward the bed and climbed in, wrapping herself in the warm quilt Taylor had loaned them.

He sighed out, regretful at his actions.

"Gabriella," he said softly, into the dark.

"Get some sleep, Troy," she told him simply and he closed his eyes and rubbed his stubble before he also moved to the bed to follow her instruction.

If only sleep would come.

/

"Did you sleep well?" Taylor asked her female house guest the next morning as she served Gabriella and Troy at breakfast.

Gabriella darted her a look. Did she know? How could she? She decided to feign innocence.

"Perfectly, thank you," she lied.

She hadn't slept a wink at all thanks to the irritating man that was Troy Bolton. He had woken something inside of her that wouldn't be put to bed and she hated him for it. This morning had been beyond awkward after their kiss last night but she felt she had made it abundantly clear there would be no more kissing and that her propriety was going to remain perfectly in place from now until the day she was released.

"We didn't keep you up with the music did we?" She asked Troy this time, noting his equally reluctant gaze.

"No, not at all," he lied just as well.

"Gabriella, some of the girls and I are taking a stage coach to Nashville for some cloth to make dresses. I wondered if perhaps you would like to come along and choose some colours?" Taylor broached.

Gabriella looked up hopefully. She'd love to take a stage coach! Then she could finally execute her escape and leave this godforsaken town behind.

"That sounds wonderful," she admitted.

"I'll come too," Troy added, making her grit her teeth. As it was, Taylor laughed.

"A gentleman along for a ride to market?" Taylor mused.

"Lest you forget, Madame, Gabriella is no longer in cuffs. Therefore I insist upon a chaperone," he remarked.

Gabriella rolled her eyes where he wouldn't see her but Taylor noted the action.

"I can be her chaperone, Sheriff," Taylor offered.

"I'm coming along," he repeated. "Otherwise Gabriella stays here with me."

Taylor looked to the petite senorita and gave her another helping of eggs.

"What is your wish, Gabriella?"

Gabriella forced a smile. "Let's take the Sheriff dress shopping," she answered.

/

Gabriella was forced to accompany Troy in a formal capacity, gripping onto his elbow as his other hand cupped hers and he smiled at passers by with all the smooth charm a stubbled man of the law possessed but she knew better.

He had her trapped. He had no other way to chain her up so he was using a façade of courtship to pass them off as a couple to the townsfolk of Nashville.

The market was a bustling place, he made sure he kept a tight hold on her in the crowds as if sensing her need to bolt but eventually, she gave up her tension and decided to play him at his own game.

"Oh look, bouquets!" She enthused of a fresh-flower stall, dragging him over to marvel over the delightful posies.

"Roses for your beloved?" The stall-owner thrust forth a small bunch of pink roses peppered with baby's breath.

Troy lifted a brow, and then looked to Gabriella. "Do you prefer pink, my darling?" He asked.

There was a bundle in every colour, so she could choose as she wished.

Gabriella squinted at him, and then attended the stall owner. "They are beautiful," she smelled them to be sure. "A perfect choice."

Troy went into his pocket for his wallet, finding Gabriella drifting away until he grabbed her hand and took out his payment whilst still tethering her.

She glared at him. "That's not proper," she complained as he twined his fingers through hers and offered her the flowers.

She frowned, not sure why he had bought them for her.

"What is not proper?" He enquired knowingly. Anyone would think they were intimate from the way he looked at her and presented her with the blooms. She blushed at the insinuation.

"A lady is escorted until she…well…" Gabriella stammered on saying the words. Traditionally, men and women did not hold hands the way she and Troy were presently until they were married and had consummated the marriage.

Yet here he was, claiming her as his own.

"Well, you will wander off," he mused warmly as she smelt her posy gently, the pair of them soon finding Taylor at the haberdashers.

"Oh Gabriella, there you are!" She complained. "Oh, what beautiful roses," she added in surprise, flicking Troy a look.

He lifted his brows as if to challenge her to say more.

Taylor cleared her throat and ignored the tension between the pair as she noted the firm grip Troy also had on Gabriella's hand.

"What do you think of this blue?" Taylor asked of the indigo she had found for her guest.

"It's beautiful," Gabriella smiled, taking in all of the colours available in the various materials.

Troy took the flowers as it became evident Gabriella and Taylor were going to spend some time discussing the range of materials for their dresses and he kept a keen eye on them as they went to and fro; matching up various dress-making accessories that the stall offered.

Eventually Taylor came to him.

"Are you still paying for Gabriella's keep?" She asked.

He looked behind her, making sure his prisoner was still present. Gabriella was stood with the stall owner, apparently being wrapped in an ivory silk and lace as though she was making a wedding dress.

"Is she getting married?" He mused, taking out money to pay for Gabriella's dresses.

"I don't know, is she?" Taylor asked him. He met her gaze for a moment and then flicked it back over her shoulder; finding his charge still present.

He came over, sliding her hand back onto his elbow where he captured it.

"I see you're looking at wedding gowns," he commented wryly.

Gabriella smiled sweetly. "I keep hoping one day he'll propose," she told the vendor.

Troy smiled tightly. "We're still courting," he explained unnecessarily.

"It really is beautiful material," Gabriella enthused, evidently in a playful mood.

"It is," Troy nodded his agreement.

"Can we buy some?" She curled into his side and touched his chest. "Please?"

"But I haven't asked you yet, my love," he said between gritted teeth. Taylor paid for her purchases and turned to give the pair a look.

"Meet you back at the coach," she merely said and left Troy open-mouthed in awe.

"I can't believe she left me, the little…" he murmured, distracted by Gabriella's touch on his chest where she was going all-out to convince him.

"You can ask me whenever you feel ready," she assured, giving him doe-eyes. "But this material won't be here forever…"

Troy squinted at her, then at the vendor who watched them bemusedly.

"How much is it?" He wondered.

"Twenty-five dollars, sir," The man offered.

Troy choked. _How much?!_ Was she insane? She wanted him to buy her a wedding dress for that much when she didn't have a ring?

He recovered with a charming smile. "Let's buy a ring first, shall we?" He suggested.

"Oh darling, does that mean…?" Gabriella smiled up at him happily.

He cleared his throat. "I'd prefer to propose somewhere a little more appropriate than the market," he excused, dragging her away by the hand as he turned to go and at first she didn't seem likely to follow.

"Ow!" She complained as shoppers in the busy market obstructed her way as Troy steamed through the crowd with no concern.

"Ow, Troy!" She yanked her hand from his as she got wedged between two rather robust ladies.

He looked at her and the next thing she knew, he had thrown her over his shoulder and was carrying her through the crowd kicking and screaming.

"That's not ladylike behaviour," he accused breathlessly as he put her down.

"You are such an arrogant asshole!" She accused, drawing some stares from the people around them. It wasn't usual for a woman to raise her voice to a man, nor to swear so the combination was of interest to passers-by.

"You can say what you want about me, but I'm not arrogant," Troy mused calmly.

"You just threw me over your shoulder!" She huffed.

"You complained you were getting hurt," he argued.

"There was no need to turn into a caveman," she argued.

"Oh, I don't know, I quite enjoyed it," he grinned, remembering the feel of her behind under his hands.

"Implorable!" She cast vehemently.

"She's a little feisty isn't she?" A random market-goer asked Troy.

He shrugged. "Feisty _and_ passionate," he assured the man.

Gabriella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Well, good luck my friend," the man parted, shaking his head at Gabriella.

"¿Y qué es lo que sabes?" _"__And what do you know__?"_ She hissed contemptuously, causing Troy to take her in his arms.

"Whoa, whoa…" he calmed her with his low voice. "Don't incite trouble you can't handle."

She wriggled against his embrace, pushing against his chest but he stood firm.

"How do you know I can't handle it?" She challenged.

Troy swallowed. "I don't," he admitted.

"Good, then let me go and I can kick his backside and show you…"

Troy chuckled. "You're not going anywhere until you calm down."

"If anyone should see us they would think we are in a clinch!" She pushed against him once more but he merely tilted his head and shadowed her face as his Stetson offered them some privacy.

"That's okay with me," he teased.

"And you call yourself a man of the law," she pushed against his chin and cheeks causing him to capture her hands behind her back.

She had no room to move whatsoever. She was forced into being plastered against him and she refused to like it. She absolutely refused to let her body meld to his; her breaths to become short with awareness and her peaks to become hard with the contact. She refused to! So why did her body do all of those things without her permission? Why did she feel her thighs soften and her intimacy moisten? Why did it feel like she were pleasuring herself all over again with just one look from that damn man?

"You surrenderin'?" He husked, the smug smile across his lips making her even angrier. Her breaths became tighter and pushed her breasts against his chest.

"I will _never_ surrender to you, law-man," she murmured.

"Oh really?" He asked, amused. Seemed she was surrendering a whole lot from where he stood, but what did he know?

"Never," she repeated, gasping as he tightened his hold on her wrists that he tethered behind her back; bringing her as close as she could come to him with her masses of skirts between them.

"One day I'll make you beg for me," he gravelled in her ear, but he was anything but arrogant. He was making a very sexy, very real promise. He wanted to undo her piece by piece and he was determined to make her cry for him the way she had alone.

"You wish," she struggled in his arms.

"I do," he countered. "But so do you," he murmured so no-one else could hear and she took a shocked breath into her lungs at his knowledge.

He knew she wanted him! He could probably smell her arousal on her skin such was the dampness on her cotton pantaloons. She closed her eyes and frowned, struggling again against his hard body.

"Let me go!" She demanded.

"Open your eyes, Gabriella."

She squeezed them shut. "No."

"Open them," he said again, more softly.

"No," she said again, losing her will to fight.

She felt his thumbs brush up the inner side of her wrists very gently, bringing them to her sides so she was no longer forced against him.

"Open your eyes," he breathed; his lips brushing her ear, then hovering at her neck. She felt his kiss there; hidden by his hat to their onlookers should there be any.

She whimpered at the small contact and opened her eyes.

What she saw was not a Sheriff, not the man of the law who had captured her and who was holding her hostage. She saw a man, pure and simple. She saw the darkness of desire in his eyes. She felt the gentleness of his touch against her skin. And most of all, she felt awed that this moment could have such an impact when two minutes before she had been ready to thwack him one.

Her eyes flicked between his, barely understanding what was happening and at the moment she thought he might dip his head and kiss her; she heard her name being called.

"Gabriella!" Taylor shrilled in the distance. "The coach is here!"

Gabriella sucked in needy air and broke away from Troy. She looked at him but said nothing. Instead she turned and ran for the coach, something he followed on to do more slowly, every cell in his body buzzing with need.

He was in serious trouble, he realized. He was falling in love with a prisoner.


	6. A Lady

**CHAPTER 6**

"Heard you was about town with that secretary of yours," Ryder Wilkins posed as he took a stool beside Troy at the bar.

Troy gulped down a mouthful of his whiskey.

"Yep," he offered.

"So what's the story?" Ryder wondered.

"No story," Troy assured, pushing his glass forward and giving the barman a look- enough to warrant the man to refill his glass.

"You stayin' at the whore-house with her, does that mean she's for sale?" Ryder asked.

"She's not for sale," Troy ground out.

"But she's a whore," Ryder stated.

"She's just stayin' there," Troy offered.

"With whores," Ryder repeated.

Troy turned and looked at the man. "That don't make her one."

Ryder smiled. "I'd like to make her one…"

"As you said, she's with me," Troy finally admitted.

"Man of the law, taking a whore and his secretary besides and if that aint enough, she's a Mexicana too," Ryder shook his head.

"She's not a whore," Troy repeated. "And I can court whoever I like."

"Mexicana's aren't exactly deemed suitable for law-men," Ryder pushed.

Troy emptied his drink down his throat.

"I don't listen much to what other people think," Troy broached, tossing some bills onto the counter as he rose from his stool.

"Well, you should," Ryder suggested. "I want that girl."

Troy turned and gave the town fool a grin. "You threatenin' me?"

Ryder grinned right back. "You don't scare me just cos you got a name for yourself…"

Troy squinted his ice-blue eyes and grasped Ryder's shirt. "Well I should," he countered.

Ryder stumbled back as Troy pushed him and headed for the tavern doors.

"You watch, I'll get her," Ryder called to the back of the Sheriff as he walked away.

"And I'll put a bullet in you if you try," Troy promised drunkenly, staggering out on to the porch and finding a zigzagged path back to the whore house where he hoped Gabriella would be sleeping already.

He had cuffed her to the bed rather than take her to the jail house what with it being Friday night and he stumbled into a heady world of sex as he came inside the door; hastening up the stairs to his quarters.

He crept in avoiding the squeaky floorboards, unlocking his prisoner as he did so. She may need to use the latrine, he considered. She may want to escape. Dammit to hell, he'd let her, too, although he didn't want to lose her one little bit.

He collapsed on the mattress and sighed out, rubbing hands over his tired face. His beard was scratchy, it was getting too long. He should really shave, he mused. He rolled up; thinking now was a gooda time as any.

"Troy?" Gabriella's sleep-soft voice called out to him.

"Hmm?" He staggered to his feet and giggled at his own drunkenness.

"What are you doing?" She rolled over to look at him. Her eyes were so big and brown when she didn't have her wig on, he observed. Her short hair was growing back; she was putting on weight. He smiled.

"I'm going to shave," he answered.

"Now?" She challenged. "It's late, just come to bed…"

"No, my beard is too long," he went toward the door and she quickly rose to fence him in.

"It can wait 'til morning," she insisted.

"Nope," he shook his head. "Can't have a Sheriff with a beard."

She smiled and cupped his cheek, rubbing the long bristles with her thumb. "I like it."

He pursed his lips and tilted his head. "It's coming off," he decided.

She followed him through to the bathing room with an eye roll and sat him down in a chair by the sink where she lathered up some foam and looked him in the eye.

"I'll do it," she told him.

"I can manage you know," he contested rather boyishly.

"Well, humour me," she mused. She didn't want to face the reality of a rather drunken Troy wielding a cut-throat razor.

"Fine," he lifted his chin for her to start and she very carefully removed the hair from his face whilst trying hard not to nick his skin.

Stood between his thighs, she focused completely on her task and completely ignored her somewhat suggestive stance. Once she had removed all of his beard with gentle care, she splashed cold water to wash away the foam and patted him dry.

"There, all done," she put the towel to the side and looked at him as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Thank you, fair maiden." He eloquently appreciated, making her laugh.

"You're welcome, kind sir."

"Would one be permitted to escort you back to your quarters?" He rose, swaying a little.

Gabriella smiled and nodded, allowing him his moment of play. When they were back in bed where he was safely horizontal, she asked him a question.

"Why did you drink so much?" She wondered.

Troy swallowed. "What I did today was wrong," he admitted.

She looked over. "What?"

"How I treated you…telling you that one day you would want for me…" He sighed. "I was wrong."

_Actually he was right_, she mused, but he didn't need to know that.

"You could have just told me," she ventured.

"Ryder came into the saloon and started telling me he wanted to be with you," he continued, his voice becoming thick with emotion.

Gabriella shivered and pulled her comforter closer. "I really don't like him."

"I told him I would shoot him if he tried!" Troy let out a burst of laughter and it died in the quiet night air.

"You would shoot him?" She repeated, stunned.

"He best not come near you," he murmured, rolling onto his side and wriggling closer to her. She froze in the bed, not sure what to do. He had never crossed the boundaries before, had never tried to touch her.

She relaxed as his head rested against her arm as some kind of pillow.

"Thank you for protecting me," she offered quietly.

Troy fidgeted and she knew he was already close to sleep.

"You smell of roses," he mused as he sank all the way into the darkness and she felt a smile curl her lips as he did so.

The roses he had bought her were on the nightstand. She had rubbed the petals on her wrists and neck before she had come to bed, enjoying their light sweet perfume. It touched her that he noticed.

She fell asleep herself into a deep and dreamless sleep.

/

Gabriella had never woken up in a man's arms. She had never had that protective warmth to comfort her, never felt so beautiful. And she maybe hadn't understood that all of these feelings could come without sex.

Her propriety may be all but thrown out of the window, but being hugged by Troy was such an amazing experience she didn't much care. She wished on some level that she was wearing one of the silk sets that Taylor and her harem owned rather than the full-length white cotton night-dress, but she still wouldn't give this up for the world.

"Hell'n'Jesus," Troy groaned, waking and coming-to.

Gabriella felt him slide away from her and smiled sadly. Her little piece of heaven was over so soon.

"Too much whiskey?" She rolled over and asked.

Troy rubbed a hand down his face then frowned.

"Where's my beard?"

Gabriella lifted her brows. "You don't remember?"

He frowned. "Did I shave it off?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I did. Or you might've had some kind of accident," she added of his state last night.

Troy reached to the nightstand for a glass of water.

"What was I thinkin'?" He murmured to himself.

"Something about feeling bad about yesterday," she offered. "And Ryder telling you he liked me…"

Troy groaned again and covered his face with both hands.

"I told him I'd shoot him."

"Apparently," she agreed of his confession last night.

He twisted and peeked at her through his fingers.

"Who made me Sheriff?" He wondered.

She smiled. "Lord knows," she replied.

Troy stood, finding a blinding throbbing hitting him as he did so.

"Would you like me to help you bathe?" She asked, a picture of innocence in her white gown, her cropped hair and full lips making him want to go over there and kiss her senseless again, just as he had short nights ago.

He doubted very much he'd even get in the bath if he took her up on her offer.

He cleared his throat. "I appreciate your offer, but I can manage," he assured.

Gabriella nodded and went out of the room to have her own bath and find Taylor to help her dress.

/

"I'd like to try something different," Gabriella told her new friend as she laced her into her corset.

"Different how?" Taylor queried.

Gabriella turned. "I always wear cotton night gowns and demure dresses," she described.

Taylor smiled softly. "That's' because you're a lady."

"Do you have any silk night things I can borrow?" Gabriella ventured bravely.

Taylor arched a brow. "Someone to impress?"

Gabriella blushed and ducked her head. "I want to feel like the other girls. I want to feel sexy…"

"Gabriella, you are a beautiful girl," Taylor mused. "Don't rush into being a woman."

Gabriella shot her a look. "I want to be."

Taylor smiled and cupped her cheek. "We're women of a different kind. You're better than this."

Gabriella swallowed, looking up at Taylor. She was afraid to tell this worldly woman her inner-most secrets, her thoughts and her fears. But she wasn't going to get her wish without putting herself out there. In this moment, she wasn't a criminal, a thief or a prisoner; she was a girl wanting to make her stamp on the world.

"I want something to impress Troy," she admitted shyly.

Taylor nodded and found out her dress for the day. It was the blue dress she'd worn the first day and it was equally pretty.

"You don't need to impress that man with sexy night-things," Taylor told her as she adjusted the dress to showcase Gabriella's assets then began work on her hair.

Gabriella gave her a doe-eyed look. "Then what?" She wondered lightly.

Taylor cupped her upper arms. "Just be yourself. I already see something between you both."

"I wish I wasn't a prisoner," Gabriella sighed. "I wish things were different…"

"You can have a life here," Taylor assured. "You already do. Despite your crime. Why did you do it anyway?" Taylor suddenly wondered.

Gabriella licked her lips. "I was feeding the poor with everything that I stole," she shared. "None of it was for me."

Taylor hugged her. "You're a good person, Gabriella," she complimented.

"Does this dress convince others of it?" She joked as Taylor stepped away.

"Beautiful," Taylor winked.

Gabriella turned at the door. "Thank you," she offered. "For everything."

Taylor smiled warmly. "You're welcome. Now along with you…"

/

"Hey, there's the beauty," Ryder Wilkins came into Troy's office to find Gabriella on a foot stool pulling down boxes from the high shelves above the filing cabinet. "Need a hand?"

Gabriella stiffened and turned to slide the box onto the desk, about to step down only Ryder seemed insistent to help her.

"Allow me," he held out a hand.

She ignored it.

"I can manage perfectly well, thank you," she told him, hoping Troy wasn't too far away just like he had always promised her.

"Hey now, no need to be like that," he curled her a smile and tipped his hat.

"I'm not being like anything," she frowned.

"Women are meant to be warm creatures," he mused. "They're meant to appreciate male attention…"

"I don't appreciate the way you're staring at my breasts," she clipped of his gaze at her neckline. She regretted asking for this dress now. Maybe Taylor was right after all, she wasn't ready to be a woman yet. She couldn't control men the way Taylor could.

Ryder licked his lips. "It gets me thinkin' what's under those skirts…"

She gasped and stepped back as he went to lift her skirt and she entirely forgot she was on a step stool as she shrieked out and clattered down among the papers resting on the floor.

"Gabriella?" Troy swung the screen door open, coming eye to eye with Ryder. "What are you doing here?" He asked the man as his hand went straight to his holster.

"Just sayin' hello," Ryder lifted his brows with a grin and waltzed up to Troy to pass him to leave; only Troy stared him down.

"I wasn't lyin' about shootin' you," he warned. "If I find you here again, you'll have lead in that ass of yours…"

Ryder tipped his hat and exited as Troy advanced to peel Gabriella off the floor.

"What happened?" Troy asked as he brought her up gently, checking her for grazes and breaks. "Did he hurt you?"

Gabriella frowned, and then lifted her hand to her head as she realized her curls had come free during her rather ungainly fall.

"My hair…" She murmured.

Troy cupped the back of her head and let his fingers graze through those short strands.

"I like you like this," he admitted with a husk in his voice and a curve of a smile on his lips.

She lifted her chin, awed.

"You didn't answer my question," he prompted.

"What did you ask me?" She wondered, genuinely having forgotten.

"I asked you if Ryder had hurt you," he reminded.

Gabriella swallowed. "No. I just forgot I was on a stool…"

"What did he do, Gabriella?" He squinted, not satisfied she was okay yet.

"He tried to lift my skirt," she blushed. "I stepped back and fell."

He made a pained face. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"It's okay," she assured. "I have to get used to men like Ryder…"

"I'm sure you've faced worse," he commented.

She let a small smile flicker across her lips.

"You're right."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, thumbing her cheek.

Gabriella let herself drown in those azure eyes and let herself believe Taylor's words for those seconds. Maybe she could capture Troy's heart all on her own merit. Maybe he really could find a skinny, short haired, flat-chested girl attractive.

She tilted her head, lifting her lips, about to show him exactly how okay she was.

"Sheriff?" A voice interrupted them and Gabriella quickly ducked away to hide her true identity from the visitor.

Troy turned with all the composure he could muster.

"Yes?"

"An Indian monument has been brought down. There's a fisticuffs heading up out there," John Higgins informed him.

Troy sighed. "Right, I'll head out, which monument is it?"

"The one by Eagle River," John told him and Troy nodded.

"I have it recorded. I'll get right down there…"

John hovered and Troy lifted his brows to expel the man and allow him a moment with Gabriella before he hoofed his way across the desert to sort out the argument.

"Be careful," her soft voice told him as he turned back toward her, finding her curls in place.

He swallowed. To hell with it, he might not ride back if the fight had gotten that far. If he was going to die in honour, he wanted to die with the knowledge he'd kissed a beautiful woman when he'd had the chance.

He stepped across the papers decorating his floor and cupped her neck, leaning down to kiss her for a long and silently charged moment. He pulled away to give her an intense look.

"Don't wait up for me," he instructed and stalked out and it wasn't until he'd fully gone that she realized.

He was leaving her here alone, uncuffed, unguarded.

He trusted her.


	7. Not A Crime

**CHAPTER 7**

Gabriella stayed up regardless of Troy's request for her not to and she found herself curling up on the chaise lounge in the parlour; wearing a pair of long johns and one of Troy's vests as she wrapped a shawl around her.

She remembered the state he had come home in after capturing the outlaws and she wanted to be here when he walked through that door in case he needed her to tend any injuries he may have.

She bit into her lower lip and twitched restlessly on the seat, finally standing to pace up and down the parlour, checking the door every five minutes in case he should walk through it.

When finally she heard the latch go, she turned and looked up expectantly.

"Gabriella?" He frowned.

She didn't speak; she just threw off her shawl and hastened towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

He bent and curled her close. "Are you ok?" He checked.

She let out a breath of amusement. "Are _you_ okay?" She asked, pulling back to look him in the eye.

"I'm fine…why did you stay up?" He frowned, taking off his hat and showcasing his sweat-matted hair.

She blushed awkwardly. Yes, why did she? Why did she stay at all when she'd had all the freedom to ride into the sunset and save all the starving children she wanted to?

"I was worried about you," she admitted furtively, as though saying those words would indemnify her feelings for him. Feelings she wasn't quite ready to admit to, yet. Feelings she could ignore and deny for a little longer.

Troy softened into a smile. "You're the only one who is, princess."

She met his eyes. "Can I help you bathe?"

It was a question she kept asking; and it was one he was finding harder to resist. Walking in, finding her in his arms that way…it got a man to thinking maybe…just maybe there could be something. Maybe, despite all the odds, Gabriella could be the balm to his roughness. He smirked.

"I can't promise to be a gentleman if you do," he warned.

She reached up and pushed his outer-jacket off his shoulders. "I'll take the risk," she assured, leading him up the stairs to the bathing room by the hand.

/

Troy was all man. She had guessed it, feared it and now she saw it with her own innocent but hungry eyes as she filled his bath with hot water; his body not shrouded by that water in the slightest. He wasn't ashamed either. Nor should he be, she mused.

The man was built perfectly, all strong, lean hard lines and heavy set with muscle. He was tanned on the arms and face, down his neck and the rest of him was pale by contrast where he covered up from the hot desert sun.

Of course she had seen his manhood, his pride, it wasn't something that went unnoticed but she had never seen a man naked before. She had never felt awareness like this prickle her skin as she watched him soap himself and she lent her assistance to rinse his hair when he was done washing it.

She had never truly felt like so much of a woman before. A woman with needs and wants. A woman's whose blood ran hot at the sight of a perfect male. A woman whose hands itched to cup his length; in her palms and watch him grow strong.

She swallowed, bit down on her lip to stop the noise in her throat and she scurried away as he rose, still naked and proud as he stood and dried himself off.

"Okay, think I'm clean," he drawled, wrapping the towel about his waist.

Gabriella nodded. "I'll pour away the water while you change," she offered and he came over to her where she stood at the sink.

He reached out and took her hand.

"Come to bed with me, Gabriella," he asked with a husk.

She darted her eyes up, breathless with surprise.

He let the smallest smile curve his lips. She wordlessly went with him and watched as he covered his manhood with shorts; rolling into bed and waiting for her to join him.

"Where did you get those johns?" He wondered of her bright red leggings. The tight fit silhouetted her evidently shapely legs and her thin vest told him the rest of the story under her clothes. He waited for her to get under the covers and relax.

"Taylor had them," she explained her attire. "I feel more comfortable in trousers."

"So you do," he observed. "I kinda like it."

She smiled. "You'd be the first."

He blinked. "I'd like to be that too," he admitted, talking about another kind of first that he wasn't sure she would appreciate.

Gabriella's lips parted as his meaning took root. He cupped her cheek before she could bolt.

"Don't leave, okay? All I ask is that you don't run."

She quivered as she nodded. "Okay," she promised him.

He needed time to prove she could trust him. Time to show her he meant what he said.

"We lost four guys out there tonight," he sighed as he closed his eyes. "I just want to know I have you to wake up to tomorrow."

She curled closer to him, offering comfort.

"I'm sorry, Troy," she murmured. "I'll be here, I swear."

/

Gabriella had told a small lie when she had promised to be right beside Troy when he woke. In fact, she was serving breakfast today under Taylor's tutelage and she proudly placed plates of French toast before the occupants at today's breakfast table.

She looked up as Troy came down the stairs, his brown hair mussed from sleep even though he was dressed in jeans and a check shirt with a neckerchief ready for his day ahead.

She pulled out a chair for him and he paused and gazed at her a moment.

"So this is where you got to," he teased with a smile that crinkled his eyes. She didn't mind his weathered face or the years he had on her.

"I'm making breakfast," she explained.

He sat and unfolded a napkin in his lap.

"I can't wait to try it," he assured, flicking his eyes around the table and greeting the ladies sat there.

Gabriella brought out two plates for her and Troy.

"I get three slices?" Troy's brows rose in happy surprise as she served him.

She nodded and tucked into her own generous helping.

"You worked hard last night, you deserve it," she decided.

He twisted his lips wryly. "I have a lot more work to do today, too…"

"Can I help?" She asked; keen to have something meaningful to do with her time.

He flicked a look at her.

"I could sure use it." He admitted with a sigh.

"What needs doing?" She wondered.

"These monuments, I need to ride round them all and put up some fencing. The record book isn't enough anymore and I won't see Natives being killed over it," he swore.

"The lives that were lost last night were all Natives?" She enquired.

He closed his eyes. "They got ambushed. The settlers are motivated by greed, they have no respect…"

She nodded sadly. "I'll help you," she offered quickly.

He looked at her. "Well, thank you, miss," he smiled.

She smiled back.

"You two free tonight?" Taylor cut in, not missing their subtle flirting.

Troy looked up with lifted brows.

"What do you have in mind, Ma'am?" He asked.

"Just some whiskey…some music…maybe a little dancing, just us girls and you, Sheriff," she winked.

His brows shot high on his forehead. "Is this some kind of intervention?"

She giggled. "No! We want you both to relax with us tonight. No customers," Taylor explained.

"This sounds like a girls night," he hedged.

Taylor rolled her eyes. "You afraid of a few women?"

He smirked. "Not at all, Ma'am, not at all…"

"Then you should both join us," she repeated her invite.

Troy looked to Gabriella. "You're going?"

She shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

He nodded. "Count us in," he told their host.

/

Taylor was already at her piano playing jovial ditties as Troy and Gabriella came in from their long day working. They headed upstairs to clean up and change, both coming down separately to join in the fun.

Troy was first, having changed into soft worn jeans and an equally worn denim shirt that showcased his masculinity perfectly. His hair was washed, clean and damp. His body was relaxed with tiredness and he let himself smile at the women parading the room.

Only one woman took his breath away though; and that was the one venturing down the stairs in her red long johns and a vest, shyly, like she didn't feel like she belonged among these showy women in their costumes.

Troy rose to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

"I should wear a dress," Gabriella worried.

Troy blinked. "You look perfect as you are."

She blushed. "I look like a man."

He chuckled. "I think the extra portions are working, actually," he took her hand and escorted her across the room.

"Dance!" The girls cheered them and Gabriella rolled her eyes and took up a stance with Troy to satisfy their calls.

"I can't say I'm any good at this," she mused.

Troy lifted his brows. "You think I am?"

She smiled into his face. "We're both bad?"

He shrugged, bringing her close, cradling one of her hands against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her back.

"This is called slow-dancing," he shared as they swayed side to side.

Taylor slowed her music to accommodate them and their audience aww'ed them.

"Everyone is watching," Gabriella complained, letting her free hand cup his shoulder.

"So?" Troy murmured, his eyes glowing with something she couldn't decipher. "Let them."

She lifted her chin, surprised by his words. He really didn't mind who saw them interacting this way, so why did she? She just felt innately awkward. Like a teenager not sure of her sexual maturity, like a girl put into a room with a man.

"Why do you worry so much?" He asked, watching her beautiful face crease with her thoughts.

She startled. "How did you…?"

He tilted his head. "You frown when you're worrying. Which you do a lot," he observed.

She frowned. "There's a lot to worry about," she defended lightly.

"Like?" He posed in challenge.

She sighed, reticent to share.

"You can tell me," he encouraged, leaning forward to murmur in her ear. "I'm not just a pretty face…"

She softened at his teasing and laid her head against his shoulder; leaning against him to let him support her; something that took a lot of courage for her. She was trusting him.

"You're a man, Troy," she told him in a quiet voice. "I worry that what you want from me, I won't be able to give you…I worry that I'll be compromised, that the reason I came to be here at all will be lost…"

"How did you come to be here?" He wondered, genuinely intrigued to hear her story. He stroked a hand down the back of her shorn head and let his hand run down to her lower back where he rested it.

"It was for the children," she shared. "The starving children. In my town, families were destitute, they became poverty-stricken. I had to help them somehow, I had to make sure those kids didn't die before they'd even lived…"

Troy made a pained face and sighed, stroking her hair again.

"That's not a crime," he argued softly.

"What I did to feed them was," she admitted, looking up into his face. "I stole one thing from each rich person, from each house. One thing they could make do without…it fed those children- all of them- for a month or more!" She beseeched.

Troy flicked his eyes between hers, seeing her passion, her pain at failing by being caught. He saw her sorrow, her remorse. He saw the tears that edged her beautiful brown eyes.

"We'll find a way to help them," he suddenly promised, surprising her.

"What?"

"The children back in Mexico, we'll find a way. There has to be something…"

She smiled through her tears. "You would do that?"

"Feeding those children doesn't make you a criminal, Gabriella, it makes you a hero," he mused.

"But I stole valuable things…" she argued.

He cupped her cheek. "I would have too. It's all you had."

"How will we help them?" She beseeched.

"I don't know," he pressed his lips together. "But we'll think of something."

She nodded, hugging him quickly. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, we have to pull it off first," he pointed out.

"Thank you for trying," she said instead.

He thumbed her chin. "I have to admit I have an ulterior motive…"

She looked up, intrigued. "You do?"

He smiled slowly. "Yeah…seeing your beautiful smile being one of them…"

She tilted her head. Somehow when he said things like that she forgot all about being a prisoner, about being anything but a woman. Her skin tingled and her body thrummed with awareness as he pressed gently into her lower back and used his knuckles to tilt her head right up.

"Those lips," he husked, kissing her lower one just gently, sucking it lightly.

She panted out her laboured breaths as she weakened in his arms; grasping his biceps for stability; giving herself up to whatever it was that coursed between them.

She reached up, using his neck as an anchor, taking his own full lower lip between hers and repaying his sensuous favour.

"The music's stopped," she observed, heady with desire, drunk on his manly scent.

He let a curly grin escape. "So it has. Shall we sit?" He asked.

He took a seat away from the main group, tugging Gabriella onto his knee.

"Sit with me," he invited.

She obliged, darting looks around the room. Troy put his arms around her and she relaxed a little, twisting so that half her back was against his chest as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

They watched the girls dance; let the sexy, provocative moves flash across their vision as they tuned into each other effortlessly. There wasn't enough whiskey consumed to use alcohol as an excuse, there hadn't been enough dancing to fully explain what happened next. But as Gabriella rested upon Troy in her sated state, she felt his fingers gently run across her collarbone; beginning a sensuous little journey across her skin.

She sucked in a breath as he grazed them down her chest, skimming close to her breasts and then he guided his hand away again, tickling her neck.

"Hmm," he kissed against her pulse, lifting her vest strap off with one gentle finger and laying his lips against her shoulder in its place.

His hand cupped her shoulder, ran down and splayed at her ribs. He let his other hand start up the pattern across her chest again as she hitched a sob of pleasure into her throat.

He smiled at her silent but awed appreciation of his touch. He felt her thighs widen a little, sensed her tension from the desire coursing through her. He courageously dipped his fingers between her mounds and brushed his thumb across the material of her top to source her nipple, finding it easily as it instantly peaked at his vague touch.

Troy let his lips trail her neck, sucking the sweet places he knew she would curl at. And as he came toward her pulse again he felt it scatter and he couldn't help himself other than to press his thumb into the hard peak showcased through her top as he gently suckled her skin.

He was glad she didn't have a mass of hair to swipe away although she lifted her hand to self-consciously cup her neck in the absence of it, he soon took that guarding hand and put it behind his own neck, allowing him to bring both his hands up to cup her breasts; breasts that may be small, may only just fill his hands but oh god, she was so perfect, so beautiful…

"Gabriella," he whispered and groaned as she sighed out, widening her thighs so that she sat spread on his lap, open for him to touch any time he felt ready and he did, he considered, but he would have to give up the blissful touch of her mounds first.

The dance swirled on before them; everyone was oblivious to their foreplay even though it would be evident if one of them approached. No-one did, they all left the sheriff and his mistress in the dark corner alone, touching and heightening every second each other's desire.

Gabriella whimpered, grasping Troy's hand to clutch it away from her peak where the sensation became too much from his touch.

"Show me," he whispered in her ear, kissing her shoulder in small butterfly kisses, biting as she dragged his hand down her body, lower to where he had hoped she would lead him.

"Here," she moulded his hand around her sex; although she was dressed in her silly red leggings he could feel her heat and dampness through the cotton.

He rubbed the heel of his palm there testingly.

"Oh god," she panted, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. He would do anything to kiss her right now, but he knew she needed more. She needed his touch and more than that, she needed him to show her she could trust him.

He brushed gentle fingers down the crotch of her leggings, hinting at what might come.

"You like this?" He enquired innocently, using his middle finger to slide gently along her lips.

She groaned, wriggled for more.

"Troy," she grasped the back of his neck, unable now to control her own body and it had him hard for wanting her.

He broached the material of her bottoms; letting his hand slide down the front of them to reach his goal.

"This is heaven," she muttered, reaching down to grab his other hand, holding it over her breast.

"God, you're beautiful," he husked; kissing her neck, her cheek, all that he could reach in their somewhat confined position but as his fingers stroked along her opening; he felt the wetness there already and he knew she was halfway to heaven.

"You…Troy…" she writhed, her backside in direct contact with the impressive arousal his lap was housing.

"Shh, shh, settle…" he coaxed, stroking gently at those lips; her beauty hidden beneath dark curls that he forced his way past.

"Yes, yes," she encouraged.

He had seen her do this very same act to herself and he had seen how much pleasure she took from it. He would like to show her how much more pleasure might be had could he use his tongue to flick inside her the way his fingers did now, but he was sure if he even moved an inch that this moment would come crashing down.

She was helpless, in his arms, rising to her peak and about to come undone and he couldn't stop if he tried, he couldn't take one selfish moment to ease his own rigid pain because all that mattered was Gabriella.

He dipped his fingers in and out of her as she panted and arched; coating his fingers in her wetness as she took them deep inside her and set them free once more.

He thumbed her peak, found her nub and pressed each in synchronization, waiting for her cries. They came, loud, wanton.

He looked up, seeing they were now alone. The girls had gone, Taylor had gone. It was just the two of them and this moment of heavy desire between them.

"Troy, oh Troy," she begged for him to end her pleasured pain.

"I know, god, I know," he cast out, thrusting his hips in frustration, grinding his arousal against her.

"Oh…oh…," she quivered in his arms, convulsing heavily against his fingers; her body spasming beyond her control. Her climax came hard and fast and he felt the tremors of that quake shimmer her whole body.

He gently removed his fingers from her sex and stroked her until she had calmed and then he kissed her temple and cupped his hand over her as if in protection. She put her hand over each of his- one between her thighs, one at her waist.

"Don't let go," she asked timidly, coming-to.

"I won't," he promised with a rough edge to his voice.

Her breaths slowed and she began to fidget.

"You need to make love," she commented of his erection, still hard against her back.

"No," he assured, his thumb brushing her curls down below.

She moved awkwardly against his touch.

"You can let go now," she said.

He rubbed his stubbled cheek against hers. "I'd rather not."

She blushed red. "This is embarrassing!"

"No, it's beautiful," he amended.

"I shouldn't have done that," she began. "_You_ shouldn't have done that…"

"Why, didn't you enjoy it?" He enquired dryly.

She gripped his hand and tried to drag it from her bottoms.

"Please let me go now," she asked.

He let her bring his hand away from her and then she sat there holding it, not sure what to do seeing as he wasn't moving of his own accord.

"Everybody will have seen," she worried, twisting on his lap, about to stand.

He quickly captured her in his arms; against his chest.

"I'll carry you up in a minute, just quit wriggling will you, woman?" He asked.

She hesitated. He was still aroused, still heavy with need. He was waiting, waiting for time to relieve his burden. And then he planned on carrying her to bed. How charming. She blushed. She had just let him open her out like a fan and delve into her secrets with no regard! She was a hussy! How would she ever get over this, she wondered?

Maybe she wouldn't, she mused. Maybe she didn't need to. Troy was looking at her intently, bemused by her discomfort. For those moments he had been touching her she had felt like nothing in the world mattered more than her pleasure, his pleasure.

She licked her lips.

"I'm yours, now," she frowned confusedly.

"What?" He puzzled with a smile.

"I'm yours. You touched me…no other man can have me…"

He lifted a brow. "Is this some kind of joke?"

She frowned at him crossly. "Do you find it funny?" She arched.

He pursed his lips and took her hand against his slowly deflating manhood.

"I'm not laughing," he assured.

"Then what?" she accused. "You want to touch other women this way? You leave me ruined?"

Troy brought her hands together in his to save them flailing around with her temper.

"If you stopped being so mad for one minute, you'd see that I was kidding…" He offered.

She frowned. He was joking about joking?

"I certainly don't expect any other man to be touching you the way I just did," he assured with an intense gaze.

"Oh," she hitched in surprise.

"And I don't really want any other woman touching _me_, either…"

She licked her lips.

"If you would just quit getting crazy on me and let me be a gentleman," he accused lightly as he shifted, standing and lifting her into his arms.

She quickly grasped his neck for balance.

"Oh!" She gasped as he bumped her gently into place.

"Will you come to bed?" He asked.

She bit her lower lip, meeting his gaze. Was he going to make love to her now? He kissed her mouth tenderly.

"Will you do me the honour of spendin' the night sleepin' beside me?" He rephrased.

She felt her eyes tear up at his words.

"Okay," she managed in a shaky voice, clutching onto him as he carried her all the way up the stairs to their room.

She was wrapped in his arms and his love that night. And she would never forget it.


	8. Ruined

**CHAPTER 8**

Troy escorted Gabriella from the house towards his work place.

He said good morning to the people passing them and horses with carriages trundled down the main road, kicking up dust.

Ryder skulked by them and tipped his hat to Gabriella but he seemed to be taking heed to Troy's warning for the man didn't stop to converse for which she was grateful.

She clutched his elbow a little tighter and he checked on her, seeing her accustoming herself to this new bond between them. Accustoming herself to being on his arm.

"Where is your home?" She asked as they passed a few town houses to head towards his office.

He smirked. "None of these lovely places," he admitted. "My little shack is around the back."

"Can I see it?" She wondered.

He pursed his lips. "Are we courtin'?" He asked back.

She frowned. "We can't…" she denied. "I'm your prisoner…"

He lifted his brows. "That's hardly true any more."

She conceded he was right. Last night when he had captured her, she was free and she knew it. Free to make her own choices, free to leave if she had really wanted. But she had chosen to stay there, locked in his arms while he showed her how special he could make her feel.

She stopped walking and turned toward him. "Then you want me to be your lady?" She asked.

He smirked.

"I think I made that plain obvious." He countered.

She sucked in a breath. This was all too much, too much to think about, too much to imagine. She felt a warm palm bring her face up.

"Don't you start worryin' now," he teased.

She smiled apologetically.

"It's too soon," she vocalized her thoughts.

"Too soon for what?" He wondered.

She swallowed. "Making love…"

He smiled and checked about them, leaning down to steal a kiss.

"I'm not talkin' about that," he assured. "I'm just talkin' about making this official."

She darted her eyes to him. "How?"

"I'll file papers to have your name cleared," he offered easily.

She o'd her mouth. "What?"

"You can work with me on the 'Children of Mexico' campaign and you can stay with Taylor while I move back home," he suggested.

"Troy…" she began her wave of dissent, but a townsperson interrupted her.

"Sheriff Bolton, how lovely to see you walking with a woman!" Poppy Miller sang as she stopped before the couple.

Gabriella blushed shyly and leaned into his side.

"Mrs. Miller," Troy tipped his hat. "This is Miss Gabriella Montez," he introduced.

Poppy smiled at the shy young girl.

"How do you like it here in Tennessee?" The lady asked her.

Gabriella looked up to Troy to check she should reply back and he smiled bemusedly and nodded his encouragement.

"It's beautiful, Mrs. Miller," she took the name Troy had addressed her with.

"The Sheriff certainly has a smile on his face in your company," Poppy teased.

Gabriella blushed again. "As do I," she offered gracefully.

Poppy laughed. "I'll let you young things finish your walk," she said as she moved away and Gabriella swallowed nervously at her exit.

"She's going to tell everyone about us…"

Troy merely grinned. "Yep."

"Doesn't that bother you?" She beseeched.

"Nope…"

"It should!" She argued as he moved them off again.

"Why should it?" He challenged.

"I'm Latina and living in a whore-house," she presented. "Your reputation-"

"I don't care," he admitted. "I know it don't look proper and you're all about propriety, but Gabriella, I want to walk with you," he assured. "I don't do things like I did to you last night very often you know," he added. "I want people to know."

She ducked her head at his mention of their night of sensuality again. She felt the same. She wanted to walk with him, too, but their courtship could cause trouble here and she worried for him. She decided not to speak those concerns aloud as they came into his office.

"Okay, let's get this place cleared," he instructed. "We have a plan to make…"

/

"Sheriff, I have a crime to report!" A puffed out Gregor Halford stepped into the office and immediately straightened. "My apologies, I wasn't aware a lady was present," he said of Gabriella who was busy tidying papers behind Troy who worked at his desk.

Troy smiled. "She's my secretary and my lady," Troy told the man.

Gregor nodded. "Perhaps we could step outside?" He suggested of the female presence.

Troy obliged, rising and putting his hat on to join the man on the porch.

"I was at the whore house the night before last," Gregor shared in whispered tones. "I left the following afternoon but I noticed something missing…"

Troy's brows rose. "You didn't leave until the afternoon?" He checked. That wasn't usual for Taylor's customers.

The man ruddied. "I'm widowed, forgive me," he blustered.

"Alright, so what did you notice missing?" Troy asked, leaning his fingers on his hips.

"My pocket watch…It's a family heirloom," he added.

"And when did you notice it missing?" Troy wondered.

"Not until this morning when I went to put it onto my waistcoat," Gregor explained.

Troy twisted his lips.

"Anyone could have gotten to it between yesterday afternoon and this morning, Greg," Troy familiarized with the man.

Greg shook his head. "I live alone."

Troy sighed and wiped a hand down his stubbled face.

"I heard that the Latina- your lady friend- I heard she just joined the house recently…" Greg venture nervously.

Troy drew his shrewd gaze upon the man. "I'll look into it," he assured.

Gregor stood for another moment.

"Is there anything else?" Troy checked.

The man swallowed. "I hope for your sake it's not her."

Troy pressed his lips together and watched the man walk away.

"Me too," he murmured to himself. "Me too…"

/

The look on Troy's face as he stepped back inside instantly had Gabriella on edge. She stood tall and looked him in the eye.

"What's going on?"

Troy gave her an apologetic wince.

"One of Taylor's clients has lost his pocket watch," Troy shared. "Actually not lost...he claims it got stolen yesterday at the house."

Gabriella darted him a look. "I wasn't at the house yesterday."

He sighed. "I know."

"I was with you." She added defensively.

"I'm not accusing you," he assured.

"Aren't you?" She arched. "It seems to me you are…"

"He knows you're new," he admitted. "He has it in his head that you've stolen it."

Gabriella frowned. "And do you believe him?" She asked outright.

Troy gave her a long look and knew in his heart it wasn't her who had taken the damn thing, but what could he do? He had a job and he did it well.

"I'll have to question you," he conceded. "No matter what I believe."

She sucked in an indignant breath. They were supposed to be courting! This morning was supposed to be a new start for them both! If he questioned her then she may as well accept she would never be the kind of woman a Sheriff belonged with.

She lifted her chin. "Fine."

He stepped closer, as if wanting to reach out to her.

"What would you have me do, 'Brie?" He asked, shortening her name but the familiarization grated on her.

"I'd have you do exactly as you say," she assured in clipped tones.

"I have to follow procedure," he argued.

"Of course," she agreed.

"Don't look at me like that," he tempered, coming over and grasping her upper arms.

"Kindly unhand me," she stretched her neck to jut her chin.

He blinked. He wanted to handle her more than he liked to admit but this little stone in their wheel was going to put paid to anything of that kind, he realized. He sighed and let go.

"I'm sorry," he said, for touching her, for having to go through the motions. "I have to question everybody who was at that house."

She nodded tightly and sat down opposite him at the desk to answer his questions.

Questions he already knew the answers to.

/

Gabriella figured her life here was decided. She was ruined by a man's hands, rumoured to be a petty thief and assumed to be a whore due to her living arrangements and Mexican heritage.

She'd just experienced the shortest courtship known to man and she really didn't know what to do.

She had left Troy in his office to call in all of those who he needed to speak to about the pocket watch incident and she had walked away with her head held high. She could walk out of this town right now, but she would rather ride.

In Taylor's pantry she stuffed various food items into a towel and tied the edges, wondering if Troy would really miss Striker so much as she led the horse away from the house; much to the horse's bemusement. He kept turning and looking back for his owner and she kept assuring him she had consent to ride him alone.

Trouble was the damn animal was too clever and he refused to get a trot on as she mounted him once she had left the outskirts of the town.

She looked out on a horizon that for once frightened her. In her heart of hearts she really didn't want to leave but if Troy thought her capable of theft under circumstances that made it clear she wasn't then she had no choice.

There was no use courting a man who didn't trust her.

"Where you headin'?" A male voice struck up behind her with heavy hooves she hadn't noticed before.

She turned, half in hope that Troy had followed her, but her heart sank as she recognized Ryder cantering up beside her.

"Back home," she replied honestly, not sharing where that was.

He smirked. "You need an escort," he stated.

She shot him a look. "I've done worse than ride across a desert alone," she defended.

He nodded. "I'll bet…"

Gabriella frowned. So he knew, too. They all knew. Great.

"I'd rather ride alone," she broached.

Ryder didn't turn his horse away.

"You know, you intrigue me, little one," he began, making her bristle at his term for her. She couldn't help being small and it only reminded her of her precariousness out here alone without a man to protect her. Without Troy to protect her.

"I'm glad I could pique your interest," she barbed.

Ryder carried on regardless.

"You share your bed with the Sheriff and pass time with whores but you look as innocent as the day god made you…"

She darted her startled eyes to him. "How would you know?" She challenged, lost for what else to say.

"It's been a long time since I saw a woman that uptight," he commented of her tension and she swallowed down her urge to tell him to shut up. He had no business making something of her innocence. Innocence she had abandoned last night in Troy's arms. She could still feel his fingers, stroking her; still feel his kisses against her neck. She still ached deep inside for more. But more she would never get.

"You don't have to leave town if you had a fight," Ryder offered. "There _are_ other men…"

"Like you?" She mused. Since one man had already touched her she didn't appreciate the thought of others following suit.

"I can be real nice to you," he promised.

"Thank you for the offer, but I really just want to ride alone," she insisted.

Ryder looked across at her. "You think you're gonna get far?"

She felt her hackles rise and prayed up above for help. Anyone, anything, just help. And it came. In the form of a Native.

She stared at the dark man with his long black hair and begged him to come closer on his horse.

"Hello!" She called urgently, steering Striker towards her potential saviour.

"Hello, beautiful woman," the Indian replied in his native tongue. Gabriella looked bemused but was grateful for his reply.

"Thank you for getting me this far," she twisted and told Ryder. "But I'll make the rest of the journey by myself."

Ryder looked at the native, then at her, seeing he was beat.

"Fine, have it your way," he reared his horse and galloped off, leaving a nervous Gabriella in the company of her Indian.

"Do you have somewhere I can sleep safely?" She asked, wondering if he would understand.

He nodded. "Follow me," he told her and turned and she did, for she didn't know what else to do.


	9. Yes Sheriff

_Thank you for your fabulous reviews & patience!_

**CHAPTER 9**

Lone Eagle took Gabriella back to camp where she was quickly adopted by the females of the tribe, allowing him to sit with his elders and tell them of his journey and the woman in their company.

"She knows the Sheriff, she is riding his horse," Lone Eagle began. "I saw them out here building fences around our monuments just a few days ago."

Chief Spitting Rook nodded and smoked his pipe.

"She will be cared for by our women until he comes for her."

"Is she dangerous?" Of The Bear asked.

Lone Eagle smiled. "No."

Of The Bear frowned. "If she is an outlaw, she will bring law-men with guns into this camp."

"The Sheriff is intelligent," Chief assured. "He will bring no fight."

Lone Eagle took a puff of the pipe.

"Then we wait."

"We wait," the Chief repeated firmly.

/

Troy saw the smoke at least a mile back from where the Natives were burning the grass and he knew that these diligent tribesmen knew better than to make a mark so he headed right for their camp in the knowledge they were calling for him.

He had come across Ryder on his way back into town and asked the man about his missing prisoner and Ryder had shared nothing about what he had seen out in the desert which made Troy worry twice as hard about Gabriella.

She shouldn't have left like that, although he was willing to free her, he didn't want her to go. He was falling in love and he wanted to fall all the way, if she did too.

He feared he might be too late as he drew his horse up a few meters back from the fire; tethering his loaned horse next to his more familiar one who greeted him with a whinny.

Gabriella; who was sitting at the campfire with the tribe's women, looked up at the sound of Striker's cry and sucked in a breath at the silhouette that approached. _So he'd found her._

She ran a hand over her short hair- something the women here had quickly discovered and doted on her about. She now smelled like peaches and honeysuckle thanks to all the lotions they had cleaned her with and they had tucked a cactus bloom behind her ear to make her look pretty. The beige kaftan they'd lent was tied in the middle but it was shapeless on her small figure. But somehow, with these vibrant, happy people she had never felt more at home.

"Lone Eagle," Troy took his hat off to greet his Native friend.

"Sheriff," the man returned.

"I believe you found something I am missing," Troy commented, flicking a look across the fire towards Gabriella. She lifted her chin.

"Is she yours?" Lone Eagle asked.

"I'm not anyone's," Gabriella muttered.

Troy moved across the gathering greeting his colleagues respectfully until he stopped in front of a Latina who could easily be mistaken for a Native if it weren't for her short hair.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly.

Jumping Frog smiled up at him as Gabriella remained silent.

"She was glad to be free of you," the lady shared. "Have you wronged her?"

Troy lifted his brows.

"Yes." He admitted.

Jumping Frog stood and gestured him to take her place beside Gabriella.

"You two need time to talk," she took away the party of women who had cared for Gabriella, leaving her alone with the man she feared. Feared because of how he made her feel.

Troy flicked a look around camp, seeing a few men standing guard, watching him subtly whilst they carried on their conversations. She was being guarded, the thought surprised him and yet it made him proud. She could survive on her own, it was an attractive trait.

He searched for words, for something to say, he balled his fists and stretched his fingers while he looked for the right words inside of him and he wished he had more experience with women and how to make things right between them and then this moment might not be so damn hard.

"I'm sorry you think I accused you," he began where he thought best- at the start. "I don't want you to leave." He added, looking to her.

Gabriella drew her lower lip into her mouth and sucked on it.

"I'm better off on the run," she ventured with a sigh.

Troy leaned back and really looked at her. She was beautiful in her natural state, with a flower behind her ear. He smiled at the feminine touch and begged to be back were they were last night, sharing loving touches.

"Are you?" He asked. He hoped she didn't really believe that.

She waivered. _No_, she wasn't and they both knew it but she hated that he challenged her. He was the one who had made her reveal her true identity, he was the one who had made her face her sexuality and now he was the one daring her not to run from something for once in her life. His words were powerful and she wondered at the meaning behind them.

She stared into his eyes to find the answer.

"I want you as my woman," he husked softly, cupping the side of her head and running his thumb down the shell of her ear. The action made her shiver and she wasn't even offended at the way he expressed himself.

He might sound bullish, possessive but she knew although his words were simple what he was really saying and the fact he wanted her made her throb deep inside.

She wanted him too. She just didn't know if she could tell him. She rose, deciding to show him instead.

"Stay with me tonight?" She asked, taking his hand and holding it.

Troy looked up at her and blinked, smiling slowly.

"Be my honour," he let his smile grow to bare his teeth.

She felt her tummy flop over at the sight of that grin.

She nodded and led him back to the tee-pee the tribe had assigned to her and she thanked her new friends profusely before entering it. It would seem Jumping Frog had an idea about what might happen because she had made up the bed with room for two and Gabriella felt the nerves scatter over her at sharing such a small, intimate space with the dangerously sexy man behind her.

She unbelted her rough materialed dress and rolled under the covers in just a slip; something that intrigued Troy as much as it aroused him. He was in his shorts and vest as he settled next to her, finding their space snug.

She licked her lips nervously.

"I'm glad you came," she ventured.

Troy shifted and brought her into his arms where she comforted herself, shivering as his protective body warmed her. She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat and smelled the musk on his skin.

"You think I'd let you run?" He asked softly, teasingly.

She smiled. "Perhaps."

"No," he tightened his hold. "No way."

"In your arms…everything feels so safe…" she murmured.

He smirked. "That's how it should be."

"I like being in your arms," she added, softening against him.

He sucked in a breath and smelled the sweet honey scent of her hair. Life just didn't get any better than this.

"How about staying there forever?" He broached. The idea was new, sudden, but he had thought about it. He had hoped she might have considered it, too.

"Forever?" She repeated, confused.

"Mm-hmm," he rubbed his stubbled jaw against her short hair.

Gabriella shifted, looking up. She could barely see his face in the dark but his eyes looked like coal. She swallowed. Was he really asking what she thought he was asking?

"I told you that I'm yours now," she said. "If you'll have me forever then I have to stop running."

"Yep," he agreed. He'd love to let her run as far as she wanted as long as she always came back to him. He told her that.

"So you do want me forever?" She broached, hardly believing it.

He thumbed her cheek. "Oh, yes."

"But what about your reputation?" She worried. "When I came here you couldn't have me staying in your house for fear of what the townsfolk would think…"

"When you came here I wasn't in love with you," he husked.

Gabriella gasped. He what! He couldn't be! It wasn't possible! He couldn't love a vulnerable broken thief such as herself, he just couldn't! Could he?

She met his eyes in the dark. Oh god, it was true. And she loved him, too. How did that happen? She gave up fathoming it and took his face in her small hands to help her reach to kiss him. He reciprocated the action, meeting her halfway and kissing her with the gentle tenderness she seemed to like. He'd kiss her for hours if he could; he didn't care about anything else.

When their mouths met this way and they shared something exquisite, time itself seemed to stop and the world fell away. He had told her. She knew now how he felt and she was kissing him. That was good. He hoped that was good, he mused.

Troy cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss with his tongue, finding her matching him with her own hesitant strokes and her hands settled on his chest where she pressed to test his strength.

He pulled away for a moment.

"Do you want to touch?" He asked intuitively.

She flexed her fingers against the hard bulk of his pecs.

"Yes," she admitted softly.

"Go ahead," he invited.

She darted him a look.

"I promise you, nothing will happen," he swore. He wanted to feel her hands upon him and he knew the day would come when they would share more but he totally understood her need to test him, to learn him without worrying about there being more.

He would wait for more. He would wait forever to be with her.

Gabriella let her venturing hands run over the expanse of his chest, up over his strong shoulders and she let her hands curl around his neck whilst she leaned forward and placed an experimental kiss at the base of his throat. She had liked it when he had done that and she wanted to test his reaction.

Troy made a noise in his throat and stiffened, grasping her wrists gently as she moved her hands back down to his shoulders and then he let go and rolled back as she pushed against his chest lightly.

He couldn't help the smile that covered his mouth as she drew up his vest and discovered the truth of his muscular physique close-up. When he had bathed, she hadn't been able to touch like this, to cover his skin and discover each crevice…she hadn't been able to lean forward and lay kisses upon that hard; warm flesh as she could now.

Troy groaned and sighed her name, throwing his head back as she kissed his nipples and let her fingers drive into the small smattering of hair high on his chest. She found the trail mirroring that patch and ran her hands down, towards his shorts. She knew what lay beneath those, she wanted to turn him on and make him stand tall but she didn't know if she could push him that far without tipping him over the edge.

He cupped his hands over hers where they hovered at his belly.

"Touch wherever you want to," he encouraged.

She sucked in a breath. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, princess."

She wasn't afraid of him, oh god, not one bit. She was afraid of taking that last step to intimacy and taking his body into hers and she knew he was kind and gentle but a man could change if a woman seduced him…

"It's okay," he assured, moving her hands down, towards his shorts where his manhood bulged, semi-hard already.

She widened her eyes and o'd her mouth as her palms came into contact with his soft-hard flesh. Her breaths shortened and her body zinged alive with the contact. Her mind produced flashing images of how it would feel to have him inside her. She moulded her hands around him and stroked the heavy balls that hung below his length.

Troy sucked in a breath and hissed it out, jackknifing on the bed at her explorative touches.

"Jesus, Gabriella," he groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. It had been a few years for him. She had a knack, that was for sure. Something about her hesitant, innocent strokes made him harder than if she'd taken him into her mouth and sucked on him.

_Oh god_. He groaned again, louder as her tongue joined the parade.

"You don't have to do that," he cast in a whisper. _Please don't do that_, his subconscious added as he hardened very quickly to full length in response to her licks and touches.

Gabriella took him into her mouth, wrapped her hand around him and did what seemed natural to please him. It seemed to be working for he was mindless with desire and it made her feel strangely powerful. Seductive even.

Here she was, doing what women did, like an experienced, grown woman and not an innocent girl anymore. She loved kneeling over Troy this way; discovering his body and his reactions. She loved turning him on.

The size he grew to, strong in her hands, made her nervous of what would eventually come but she knew he would take care of her; he already was. His hands gently roamed her shoulders, occasionally he let one cup the back of her head as he arched his hips off the bed but she felt it was more to warn her of his thrusts than to draw her further down his large manhood.

She wanted to taste his seed; it was something the girls in the house had talked about and now she was determined to try it. Troy warned her with a pained cry that his climax was coming and she felt him jerk beneath her.

Seconds later warm salty fluid spurted onto her tongue and she quickly swallowed it; drawing back as yet more shot out of his tip and dribbled down his length. She watched in awe and swallowed again; taking the sticky, sour seed inside.

Troy caught his breath and grasped her arms gently.

"How do I taste?" He curved a smile at her, amazed and awed at her demonstrative act.

"Horrible," she admitted with a frown, to which he chuckled.

"You didn't have to swallow," he arched a brow and drew her up his body where she lay against his chest.

"You're all sticky," she complained of his semen seeping through her slip.

"I should go take a dip," he mused, wrapping his arms around her.

"There's a small oasis out back," she said, cuddling close.

"Will you accompany me?" He wondered.

She wriggled a little. "Okay."

He kissed her hair. "My god woman," he appreciated.

She looked up. "What?" She wondered.

"You are just amazing," he smiled, running his knuckles across her forehead.

"You seem surprised," she joked with a twinkle, moving to rise for their wash.

"Let's go quickly, it'll be cold out there," he said of their task and they ran hand in hand towards the small pool of water that would clean them.

Gabriella stripped off her slip and dove right in, regardless of her naked state whilst Troy watched on with something akin to bemusement.

He dove right in after her and quickly captured her in his arms where he kissed her for long moments until their legs twined and her arms went around his neck.

"It's cold but I don't feel it," she whispered, brushing his jaw with her thumb and hearing the rasp of his stubble.

He rubbed her with his body. "You are so beautiful."

She blushed and gasped as he kissed her neck, right where he knew it melted her.

"Troy," she cast some kind of dissent in her throat but it came out strangled and he worked kisses down her chest; finally suckling on her now-hard peaks with fervour. She felt the bristle of his beard against her skin, felt that pleasure ripple all the way into her belly and fan out between her thighs. As it was she cried out and parted her legs in signal for how he made her feel.

"I love it when you do that," he graveled by her ear, cupping her bottom with one hand while his other wrapped around her waist and kept her afloat. She was sure she couldn't do that alone.

"Do what?" She asked absently as his hand worked down her backside in palming ownership and then she felt the tips of his fingers broach her intimacy.

"Open to me," he said of her reaction to their foreplay.

She whimpered at his hoarsely spoken words, seductive words that only made her wetter, made her needier for him.

"Beautiful," he mused as he drew her thigh into his wandering palm.

"Troy," she swallowed down a sound of need, begging him to touch her where she burned and throbbed inside.

"Really, here?" He played devil's advocate as he cupped her intimacy.

"Yes!" She sighed, arching her hips, trying to thrust herself against his hand.

"Good god," he prayed up above for control as he stroked along those lips; her curls protecting what lay beneath.

"Please," she kissed him hard, owning him, She sucked his lower lip and let her mouth press against his in the way her body followed suit.

There was no mistaking that she wanted him to touch her and so he obliged her panted request. Two fingers dipped inside her, instantly coated with her arousal and heat.

"Oh," she grasped him closer, folding her arms around his shoulders and rubbing her naked body against his. If he wasn't a better man he would have taken out his digits and filled her, but he was and he closed his eyes against the painful reaction his body had to her.

He thumbed her nub, kissed her peaks and dipped into her; just like that night at the house and every sound she made and breath she slew out made his discomfort worth it. Because when she hit her peak and tightened around his fingers; he could imagine exactly how she would feel against his thick manhood as she came like this. And the thought of it had him hooked.

He kissed her mouth, strong and hard. He slowed his kisses, softened them as she came around; falling back to earth.

She shivered in the cold water.

"I love you," she told him, her brown eyes looking right into his to verify her words.

He smiled. "I love you, too."

She reached forward and hugged her arms around his neck.

He wrapped her close. "Let's get dressed before you freeze," he suggested.

She pulled away with a shy smile. "Yes, Sheriff."


	10. Lucky

_Oh god I'm a bad person __ I have taken an unforgivable amount of time to update._

_Seriously I love you guys that still review 3_

**CHAPTER 10**

Gabriella had taken Troy's shirt to wear with the leggings she loved so while he wore his shorts and a jumper he had brought and they had curled up together in each others arms that night, under the stars in their tee-pee home.

The sun had risen all too quickly on their blissful night and Gabriella had woken first, relishing the feeling of being in Troy's arms again. She was glad he had come, she was happy beyond words they would make a future together.

She felt him stir behind her and snuggled into the covers, their little nest a heaven among the reality of going back. She wanted to stay like this, forever.

"Hmm," Troy drew her close and smelled her neck. "My god, I'm a lucky man."

Gabriella smiled at his words.

"You fell in love with a thief who dresses as a man," she posed, thinking, _what's lucky_?

"I know," he rubbed his cheek against her hair.

This was a good thing to him, she couldn't fathom how but she didn't try to.

"We have to go back," she broached with a swallow that belied her nerves.

He made a noise of dissent and wrapped her tighter in his arms.

"Let's stay here. Let's join the tribe," he joked.

She smiled. She actually quite liked the idea.

"The people need you," she argued anyway. "They need a Sheriff."

"They can find a new one," he countered, drawing his shirt down her shoulder to kiss her there. She squirmed and clamped her thighs together. She absolutely would not spread herself for him again! It was becoming habit.

"Are you turned on already?" He wondered in her ear and she hated him for reading her so clearly.

She cleared her throat. "Not in the slightest."

He rubbed his hard body-part against her backside.

"I am," he admitted with a rascal of a husk in his voice that only made her ache more.

He kissed her shoulder again, then her neck. He blew gently on her ear.

"I would love to touch you," he suggested, running his hand up to cup a breast where he thumbed her nipple and she bit her lip as it instantly peaked under his touch.

"Damn how do you do that?" She cast, annoyed.

He smirked. "You may as well give it up, princess. Your body betrays you," he observed of her reaction to him despite her words to the contrary.

Her thighs joined in the revolution and parted and his hand instantly trailed down.

"Not again," she begged of his ability to fill her with his fingers and bring her to the edge.

"Then what?" He murmured in her ear, already pushing his hand under her bottoms to reach his destination.

He circled her nub with one finger. "Just this?" He suggested, feeling her tense and gasp in pleasure.

She quickly grasped the back of his neck and opened her body to him.

"Do you ever quit?" She panted in complaint of his onslaught and he chuckled and brought his finger away.

"You'd rather I didn't?" He teased.

She whimpered and drove her own hand down her pants to replace his which he watched with awe.

"Jesus Christ," he swore gently and went back to cupping her mound and thumbing her peak while he watched.

"Touch me," she took his hand and dragged it down to where he had started and he smiled with satisfaction that she wanted him to bring her off.

"My pleasure," he rumbled in her ear, circling her little bundle and placing pressure alternately to slowly, gradually bring her to her peak.

"Oh god!" She cried as she quivered and jolted quickly in her rise to orgasm, stunned by the sweet ecstasy he afforded her. Would sex with him be this pleasurable? She imagined it may be more so but they still had that to enjoy.

Troy was stroking her intimately and growling in her ear in unspent pleasure. She wrapped herself in him and sighed in sated happiness.

"Let's never go back," she mused.

He snuggled into her shoulder and let his eyes close in dozy contentment. They soon fell back into sleep like that until the morning sun finally forced them to wake and rise. They came into the circle of Natives hand in hand, Gabriella somewhat bashful as she remembered their night before and wondered if these kind people had heard their cries of passion.

"All is well?" Jumping Frog asked the shy girl.

Gabriella nodded. "Yes."

"He made it up to you," she smiled, stating more than asking.

Gabriella blushed. Well, she could say that! He made it up to her in ways she still didn't understand but that she most definitely would not forget.

"The Sheriff is not a lone ranger anymore," Lone Eagle teased.

Troy grinned. "Nope."

Gabriella looked at him as they ate the food they were provided. He was so happy about being with her; it made her toes curl and her heart pound in her chest.

She smiled softly as Jumping Frog took him away for a moment, talking quietly with him and giving him something. He darted Gabriella a look and she quickly feigned nonchalance as she looked away. She wondered what was going on between the pair but she trusted him. It was a strange feeling but finally, she trusted him.

"I have an idea for the kids," Troy spoke as he sat back down.

Gabriella was surprised at his topic of conversation. "You do?"

"If Strand spoke to the businesses in the town I'd bet they could find small jobs for some of the older children to do," Troy broached. "Like sweeping floors, measuring flour…they'd never pay an adult to do the work it would cost them too much but the children would make something out of it," he explained.

Gabriella looked at him, wide eyed. "They'd have something to look forward to, they'd feel worthy," she added.

He nodded. "I'll send him a telegram."

Gabriella frowned. She supposed she ought to really go home at some point and visit her parents. Especially as she was courting, now. Especially as Troy was working to free her of her debt to society.

"What's the matter?" He asked, grasping her hand.

"I have to go back and see my family," she broached. "When my name is cleared."

He rubbed his thumb down hers. "I'll take you."

She tilted her head at his kind offer.

"My family will be happy to meet you," she assured.

He smiled. "I'll be happy to meet them, too."

She leaned over and kissed him just once sweetly and turned back to find the tribe watching them. She blushed and rose.

"Thank you so much for your kindness," she told them, moving to get ready for their ride back to town.

"Hey, we found the culprit by the way," Troy told Gabriella as they rode side by side on their separate horses. Striker was proudly carrying Gabriella back home.

"You did?" Gabriella darted him a look.

"It was Nadia," he shared. "She confessed when she realized you were in the frame for it."

"What?" Gabriella sucked in a shocked breath.

"I know," he smirked. "Apparently she wasn't getting much business in the house and she decided to make her income another way."

"Oh," Gabriella frowned, feeling sympathy that the girl wasn't able to make as much money as the others.

Troy smiled across at her. "She gave the watch back. She won't be penalized, Greg dropped the charges."

"He did?" She awed.

"He asked her to marry him and she accepted." He added.

Gabriella let a smile curve her lips. "That was lucky."

"He's widowed and lonely and wants a woman to dote on, she's in need of a man to care for her, it couldn't be more perfect." He summarized.

Gabriella nodded. "It couldn't."

"Do you feel that way about me?" He wondered lightly, amused.

"What that I'm lucky?" She asked back. She was riding on a horse in leggings and his shirt, no longer hiding her short hair.

He had insisted she ride back into town as she was and he had told her how beautiful she was and how he loved her that way- in her natural state. It had made her cry with his touching words and they had shared a special moment and she recalled it as easily now. She knew exactly how lucky she was and she felt it deep inside.

"I feel very lucky," she admitted.

He pursed his lips. "You're too far away."

"I'm right beside you!" She argued.

"I'd rather you were here, in my lap," he invited.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you would."

"Does that mean you won't come sit with me?" He asked.

Gabriella gave him a look.

"And what about Striker?" She wondered.

"He'd ride along side us," he assured.

She bit her lips. "Okay," she decided, transferring across to his horse awkwardly, finally settling against his chest.

His arms came around each side of her to hold the reins and draw her close.

"See?" He murmured in her ear.

"See what?" She feigned.

"See how nice this is?" He persisted.

She felt the knob of the leather saddle rub her sensitive part; grasped it and tried to stop the aching that began within her.

Troy's chest against her back was aphrodisiac enough; she didn't need any more stimulation.

"What's up?" He wondered of her awkward tension.

In trying to avoid the pommel she was creating trouble.

"Nothing," she answered lightly, relaxing. The action brought her in contact with the saddle hump again and she whimpered.

"Are you sore?" He wondered suddenly. Maybe his insistence to pleasure her had taken its toll on her nubile body. He had thought he had been gentle but…

"This saddle is rubbing me," she finally admitted.

He lifted his brows. _Oh_.

He smirked then. It was rubbing her in a place he knew exactly where she would be sensitive right now. She was turned on, not in pain.

"Why don't you turn around and face me?" He suggested.

"Troy, don't be ridiculous," she cast.

"I'm not," he argued. "Loop your legs over mine and we can ride face to face."

"I'll just get back on my horse," she said.

"Don't go," he wrapped an arm around her middle and murmured in her ear.

She sagged and curled at his words. Well, there was no harm trying his suggestion she supposed as she maneuvered about to take the position he described.

"I feel stupid," she sulked as she used her feet to press against his calves and looked for a handhold.

"You can put your arms around me if you like," he suggested lightly.

She looked up at him with a warm, knowing twinkle.

"Can I now?" She countered, settling for his thighs to grasp onto.

"Or that," he assured happily, leaning forward to kiss her gently.

Gabriella began to relax and let the desert sun warm her skin as they rode and it wasn't long before they were venturing back into town. She sat up nervously and frowned.

"I should get back onto my own horse," she commented, already nervous about being seen with short hair and in leggings.

"Stay with me," he begged softly. "Let's really get them talkin'…."

She turned to ride against his back and was touched when he helped her down from his horse. He tethered both the animals as she waited on the porch and some of the townsfolk were busy whispering, paused from their day as they observed her arrival.

Troy waved to the people and slung an arm around her shoulders as they headed inside.

"Oh, you're back!" Taylor greeted of the pair.

"We're back," Troy affirmed.

The black woman quickly went and hugged Gabriella.

"I'm glad you came home." She said.

Gabriella smiled. "I'm going to be me now," she shared. "No more dresses, no more wigs."

Taylor merely smiled. "I think that's wonderful."

Troy took Gabriella's hand in his.

"We're courtin'," he told his friend. "I should move back to my shack," he added.

Taylor tilted her head. "Will Gabriella move with you?"

Troy looked to her. "I don't know I haven't asked her yet," he smirked.

Taylor laughed. "Oops! I spoiled the surprise. Gabriella, why don't I help you clean up and get changed into something fresh?" She suggested.

Troy smiled as the pair went off, leaving him time to go back to his place and spruce it up. He would ask Gabriella for dinner and cook her something; god knew what, but he'd try and make her something edible.

He picked up some wild flowers to present on the table, put two candles out and set places. It looked okay.

He only had the one room, one bed in it- although a double; he only had one couch, one table, a small open kitchen. His latrine was outside but it was home. He'd find something better now he had a reason to.

He went to the store to purchase dinner items and headed back to the whore-house to invite his beau.

/

Gabriella was wearing a smock. It wasn't trousers but it was shorter than the normal dresses worn by the women here and it bared her shapely legs. She wasn't sure if Troy would be impressed with his woman showing herself this way but the demure cut of the neckline eased her mind a bit.

She had added a little make-up; put on some moccasins and she stepped out onto the porch just as he was approaching with a package under his arm.

He waved and yelled out. "Dinner?"

She beamed and nodded like a little girl and then he flicked his eyes down her, pausing to really appreciate her for a moment before he came closer. Close enough to cup the back of her head and graze his lips against hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth in the same moment.

"God you look beautiful," he complimented.

She sucked in a breath. He looked handsome, too. He'd changed into those soft jeans she loved and a white shirt.

"Shall we walk?" She suggested, fearing they might actually start making out on the porch for all the town to see.

He nodded and held out his hand for her to take and she took it, not caring what it looked like. She liked being his equal, his partner and she appreciated his allowance of her to do so. Most other men would only have let her take their elbow, thereby putting her behind them somewhat. Troy stalked along the main road with every ounce of that masculinity she found irresistible; all the while his hand encased hers so protectively, she wondered at it.

He might be the kind of man she expected to throw her on the bed and take her, be she willing or not but he had proved himself to be no such kind of brute and it only made her want him more.

Inside his small home, she made herself comfortable whilst he prepared their food. She found it unbelievably cute that he was going to such effort for her when she hadn't yet cooked for him-apart form breakfast and that didn't count. She smiled as he came and sat beside her, his preparations done for the time being.

"So, what do you think?" He asked of his humble abode.

"It's perfect," she assured.

"It's small," he conceded. "But I'll find us somewhere bigger."

She ducked her head. "What can I work as?" She wondered.

He leaned back and thought. "What did you do back home?"

"I learned massage," she ventured and he remembered her healing touch.

"You never did share how…"

She lifted a brow. "A woman needs some secrets."

He pursed his lips. "I might get jealous of all the men you'd be rubbin' down…"

She smiled. "But I belong to you."

"You belong _with_ me, 'Brie. Not to me," he adjusted.

"You're the only man to make me feel this way," she assured. "You're the only one I would massage for free."

He smiled at that. "You should open a therapy room," he suggested.

"Taylor could do her ointments," Gabriella enthused.

"Sounds great." He agreed.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "You'd really be okay with me working?"

"Well, sometimes I'm away so you need something," Troy observed.

"Most men wouldn't want their woman to work."

"I'm not most men…"

"No," she agreed, twisting to kiss his cheek.

"If there came a time we were blessed with a child then you could stay home to care for him or her," he suggested.

She blushed at the insinuation.

"I might become blessed with child as soon as our first try," she broached nervously.

Troy kissed her forehead. "I'll pull out."

She darted him a look. She wanted him to release his seed inside her when they made love; not pull out for fear of impregnating her. But she didn't want to fall pregnant so soon. She vowed to talk to Taylor about birth control.

"Can I stay here with you?" She broached. As much as she enjoyed staying with the girls, she didn't want to be associated with a bawdry house now that she and Troy were courting.

Troy ran his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"I was going to ask you," he assured in a murmur. "Later."

She laughed. "I ruined it."

"You couldn't ruin anything," he doted.

She delighted at his assurance and kissed him.

"How long until dinner?" She asked.

He blinked sexily. "Not long."

She pressed her lips back against his. He smiled amidst the kiss and enveloped her in his arms; wrangling with her on the couch until he was atop her; having her trapped.

"I could get used to this," he admitted.

She ran her hands over his backside.

"Me too."

He grinned and kissed her again, raising his head to sniff his cooking food.

"I think it's done," he disentangled himself to check and dished out his offering- pork belly with potatoes and vegetables.

She consumed the delicious meal with sounds of approval that had him gazing on her wantonly.

"Am I curvy enough yet?" She wondered as they stood after dinner and she checked herself over.

He came over and wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you however you look."

"I want to look like a woman," she sighed of her still-slender shape.

"You do," he assured, cupping her bottom to prove it.

She sighed and softened against him.

"With you, I feel nothing but," she conceded.

"Well, you are certainly feminine enough for me," he assured as he dipped his head and kissed her collarbone.

His hands broached under her skirt as they came up her thighs.

She gasped in mock indignance.

"We're not married yet," she accused lightly, knowing they had done a lot more than a few bold touches before.

Troy grinned and went over to his nightstand, carrying across a band of metal.

"I want to give you this," he presented her with the simple ring. "Jumping Frog gave it to me," he added. "It's a promise of my intentions."

Gabriella o'd her mouth and shot him a startled look. He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit her perfectly. The silver band was decorated with a khaki stone that she didn't recognize but it was as beautiful as it was unique.

"The natives use this to bind their love?" She awed and he nodded.

"The men present it to show their commitment."

"Its beautiful," she whooshed out a breath.

"I'm yours, Gabriella," he assured. "Forever."

She felt tears well in her eyes and she quickly grabbed him around the shoulders before he would see and he hugged her bemusedly in return.

"I don't know when we'll be able to get married but I hope this shows you I intend to," he commented. Marriage was an expensive business and he wanted them to have a home, first.

"It does, Troy," she pulled back and wiped away her tears.

Troy noticed and braced her face gently in his hands.

"Are you okay?" He checked.

She nodded. "I'm happy," she explained her emotional state. "Very happy."

He nodded and kissed her mouth.

"Would you like to stay awhile?" He invited.

She tipped her chin up and looked into his pure blue eyes. She'd like to stay a long while, she mused. Why was he even asking? But she wanted to stay awhile and do something they had been dancing around the edge of for too long now. She had his promise. She ached to feel him inside of her. She licked her lips and sucked in a breath before she spoke.

"Make love to me," she said only.

And his eyes darkened before he leaned down to take to her mouth.

/

It didn't take long for Troy to remove her smock. Or for Gabriella to unbutton his shirt and release her hungry hands across his chest. It took less time to rid the item but for some reason her hands shook as she looked down to his jeans fastening; tethered with a belt.

"Are you scared?" Troy asked.

His hair was ruined by her fingers; his breaths short and hot. His body was strong, hard and pumped with adrenaline from this foreplay and she found his picture irresistible.

As it was, her slip was the only thing covering her modesty and she found it hard to disguise her body's reactions to him.

"A little," she admitted her apprehension.

"When you touched me, I didn't force you," he broached. "I won't force you," he added of their quickly rising passion.

She slowly pulled his belt through the loop and unhooked it, taking the stud out of its hole and finally rasping down his zipper. The brush of her fingers against him made him harden instantly and he smirked as his manhood popped free of its constraint.

She watched his arousal grow under the cotton of his shorts as he kicked off his jeans.

"Come here," he husked, cradling her, whispering in her ear.

He told her she was beautiful, that he loved her, that nothing had to happen tonight. He kissed her and cupped her face to prove it. He ran his finger tips down her spine and kissed her shoulder as she hesitated.

Finally she looked at him and lifted her arms, silently asking him to bare her. He swallowed at the weight of her request and felt nerves squiggle in his own belly. He wanted this to be so right for her, so perfect. He wasn't willing to take anything less than 100% certainty from her.

"'Brie," he murmured, lifting away her shield and sucking in a breath at her beauty. Her belly was flat but toned; her waist tiny. Her hips flared out into perfect curves and he watched her nipples peak under his gaze. The patch of thick curls at the apex of her thighs only reminded him what they were guarding and he quickly sank to his knees to cup her thighs.

"Troy," she smiled awkwardly as he dipped low, palming her calves, her thighs, her buttocks.

"I'd love to kiss you, inside," he husked and she felt something pop inside her at the thought.

"Wh-what?" She stammered, swaying as she felt her balance waiver.

He quickly rose and carried her to the bed; laying her there where he remained low; kissing down her thighs and between them.

"You don't need to," she called with a small voice of apprehension. She was slick enough already; buzzing with need. She really didn't think he had to do anything else to-

_Oh_ _heavens_, she arched on the bed and whimpered as his kiss became intimate. His tongue lathed her, curled around her nub and struck into her hotly. She cried out as she grasped for something to ground her.

"The headboard," he panted, watching her hands rise above her to grasp the bars on his wooden headboard. Her body stretched out and she raised her hips off the bed; her breasts perfectly showcased. He reached up and gently thumbed her nipple, lowering to complete his task.

Gabriella hoped Troy didn't mind her thumbing her own hard peaks as he treated her to an intimate kiss. As soon as she felt her peak rising she grabbed the firm board behind her again and widened her thighs automatically. She climaxed; heavily, upon his tongue.

"You taste amazing," he husked, kissing up her belly, cupping her between the thighs in that way he did that made her curl in satisfaction.

"Kiss me," she demanded, tasting herself on his tongue as he obliged her but she couldn't keep his mouth for long, he was already seeking out her nipples for more oral pleasures.

"I can't take any more," she panted, running her hands into his hair and cupping him there where he lathed her with his tongue.

"It's going to hurt, 'Brie," he warned. "You're very tight," he observed, slipping two fingers inside of her as she gazed into his eyes. Even those two digits filled her. She gasped as he gently scissored them, stretching her out.

"I want you," she begged. "It's okay if it hurts the first time."

He shook his head, kissing her body more, kissing her mouth. She felt like she might implode with the heights he took her to; the pounding deep inside was unbearable.

"Please," she sighed, palming his rigid heat. "I need you."

He swallowed. He needed her too but he didn't want to hurt her. He hoped she had sorted her birth control out with Taylor as he widened her thighs. He pushed up between them, spreading her out and bracing at her entrance.

"Look at me, 'Brie…" He husked, kissing her lower lip, her chin. He slowly began to broach her resistance.

She hitched a noise in her throat, taking a breath in as he entered her; and he slowly filled her with every inch he had. He felt her womanhood flutter around him and he pushed in deep; the thrust an instinctive one, not of choice.

"Sorry," he whispered, cradling her. "I'm sorry…"

Gabriella lay wide-eyed staring at him as she accustomed to his size; buried deep within her where she locked him as her intimacy struggled to accommodate his thickness. She wasn't sure what was happening to her but she closed her eyes and let out short breaths of struggled air; arching as she tightened around his invasion convulsively; an orgasm rocking her body against her control.

"Hell, 'Brie," Troy groaned at the tightness she afforded him, willingly or not.

She didn't understand her reaction, didn't know what made her climax like that; all she knew was that as Troy drew slowly out of her, she wanted him back within as soon as he withdrew. And when he began to fill her again; she wanted more of him and harder. He began to thrust; began to answer her cries demanding more. She took him into her body; every last hard, swollen inch of him as he worshipped her with the rough but loving drive of his hips.

He thrust into her, over and over; the intensity of their union taking them both to another place where they rose and rose until they reached the stars. Gabriella felt yet another climax climb over her skin as Troy filled her completely and drove into her for longer, more satisfying strokes.

She cried out as her peak broke; more softly than before; tightening him gently inside of her where she felt him crash into her one final time; giving her the ultimate fill of him.

She was full to the brim of him and thoroughly loved; nothing else mattered as she clutched him in her arms and let the tears slide down her face. This moment couldn't be more perfect, she couldn't have hoped for anything more. She sobbed in quiet pleasure at sharing something so profound, something so beautiful with someone she cared so much about.

She could make love with Troy over and over if that's how amazing it was going to be, she mused.

She swallowed as he moved and a stinging sensation quickly pained her between the thighs. She whimpered and looked up into his face.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," he quickly apologised with his own swallow. "'Brie, I am so sorry…"

She looked down beneath them, seeing the red stains on his bed; all over his sheet and now all over his hands where he was cupping her as if trying to take the pain away.

"Don't move," he murmured, rising to quickly run some water into his bath where he quickly carried her and took a cloth to clean her.

"Troy…" She trembled as he sank her into the warm water; his naked body patched with her blood.

"Shh, don't cry…" he quickly sank into the bath with her and adjusted her so that her back touched his chest where he could wash her gently and murmur in her ear.

"I'm crying because it was amazing," she hitched, shaking from fear of her bleeding.

"Shh," he stroked a hand down her belly, kissing her temple. "We knew you would bleed…I should have been more gentle," he blamed himself. "Damn but you were beautiful and I just-"

Gabriella reached back and grasped his neck.

"It's okay."

"It's not okay," he murmured. "You must be sore," he guessed.

She squeezed her thighs and felt the tell-tale bruising of his rough thrusts. She didn't need to affirm her discomfort for he wrapped her close and kissed her cheek.

"I'm sorry…I lost control for a minute there…" She had been so tight, so welcoming, he hadn't had any will left in his body to hold back.

He winced as he used the cloth to clean her body gently.

"Stop saying sorry," she urged. "I'm not."

He sighed and moved, lifting her from the bath to dry her. His bath emptied the water itself which she marveled at before bringing her gaze back to his. He was so worried for her. She checked between her thighs; found no more blood and sighed in relief.

"I'll change your sheets and wash them," she offered embarrassedly.

Troy stepped forward and hugged her close. "I'll do it." He assured.

He helped her into her clothes and ensured she was comfortable on his couch before he went about his task, quickly fixing the bed to come and join her.

He stood before her and drew her up, kissing her softly as he cupped her butt.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said again, pressing his forehead to hers.

She cupped his neck. "It was the best experience of my life," she promised.

"Next time, I'll be so gentle…" He swore.

She smiled. "When can we…?"

He shook his head and brought her to the clean bed where he rolled onto the fresh sheets and brought her down with him to cuddle.

"You need to heal," he nuzzled her neck as they spooned.

She pouted. "Okay."

He bound her into his arms. "Sleep, my princess."

She nodded tiredly and obeyed.


	11. Your Man

_Okay people this is the final chapter of this story! Please use the poll on my profile page to vote for your favourite next story :)_

_Ang_

**CHAPTER 11**

Gabriella wanted to recreate the magical passion of last night as soon as possible but Troy had tamed her keenness and insisted she completely recover before they made love again.

She couldn't forget the way he broached her, the way he filled her so completely and how she had taken a journey to the outer world where their love was realized. She could barely believe she had found love at all, in fact.

Troy had kept her in his arms, in his bed for most of the morning; making sure she was fed and watered and well-cared for. He stroked her; made her hum nicely with his touches and they kissed in between talking.

There was a reluctant mood settled upon them, neither of them wanted to move for fear of breaking this magic, but both of them knew they had to. Life was still going on outside this little corner of heaven and they had a part in that world whether they liked it or not.

"I should check on Taylor and the girls," Troy rolled onto his back with a sigh and Gabriella instantly wriggled to snuggle into his side.

"Do you have to?" She asked.

He smiled sadly. "I promised her I'd look out for her."

"She knows we're here if there's a problem," Gabriella clutched her arm around his waist, not ready to share him yet. He cuddled her close with an arm around her shoulders and then he kissed her hair.

"You're not like most women," he observed.

She smiled. "No, I guess not."

"Women here are normally averse to affection and only give into their men when they can no longer avoid the act."

She nodded. "You're hardly the kind of man who demands sex, though. It's not like I need to avoid you or anything," she commented of his nature.

"I would hate for that," he admitted, the thought making him frown.

"I guess not everyone is as lucky to have you as their bed-partner," she mused.

"Mmm," he wrapped both arms around her and hugged her. "You make me sound like a saint and I know I'm not that…"

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "I love you," she said simply by return.

Troy's brows rose at her sudden expression of affection- both physical and verbal.

"Is everything okay?" He checked.

"Everything is amazing," she beamed happily. "I just wish my hair would grow back and then it would be perfect," she added.

He stroked a palm down her short strands. "I told you, I like it this way."

She leaned back and looked up at him. "I really have to let you leave?"

He pursed his lips and nodded.

She sighed and rolled back. "Okay."

"Why don't you come to Taylor's with me and get the rest of your stuff?" He suggested.

She wriggled in bed in thought. "I might sleep awhile. I'll get my things later," she decided.

"Okay," he leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams my princess."

/

By the time Gabriella headed over to the parlour-house, Troy had been and gone. Taylor explained he had other errands to run and invited her to stay the afternoon.

Gabriella had enjoyed her time with the older woman, having a dress measured to fit, talking about her new life here. Time soon grew on and it was darkening outside.

"I'm going to make dinner for Troy," Gabriella told her friend, gathering up her meager belongings in two bags to carry across to Troy's town house.

Taylor hugged her. "Come visit me," she urged. "Every day if you like. Troy may be your love but he's still a man. I like our girl-talk."

Gabriella smiled. "Me too," she admitted.

Taylor had been a life-saver in all the things Gabriella wanted to know. She had given her sponge for birth control, she had assured her with her fears and she had given her a potion to heal her soreness. She was like the mother Gabriella missed so.

Back at the town house, she carefully prepared beef and potatoes for her man; making special gravy and batter puddings to accompany the rich meat. She hoped he wouldn't be too late home because of his delayed start.

She wanted to hold him again; to kiss him, roll in bed with him and she wanted to make love with him again. Maybe tomorrow once the potion had worked.

She bit her lip and went into the street to look for him as time wore on.

"Have you seen the Sheriff?" She asked a passer-by, one who looked at her strangely.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" The older man with the curly moustache wondered.

Gabriella blushed. "A girl."

"In men's pants," he arched a brow. "With short hair? Do you wish you were a boy?"

"Sometimes," she mused of his reaction. "Please, can you just tell me if you have seen Sheriff Bolton?"

"Saw him in the tavern just as I was leaving," The man shared.

Gabriella frowned. The tavern? Why would he be drinking instead of coming home? Had he changed his mind already?

She stood and thought for a moment. Should she go there, looking for him? It could cause an issue if all the men inside that room treated her as the last man did. But Troy had encouraged her to be herself and that the town would accept her eventually. He had made her believe that going into the tavern to fetch him was not beyond their boundaries.

Still, she didn't want to be that woman. The one who chased after her man demanding to know why he wasn't home yet. And damnit but she did want to know why he wasn't home yet. She had beef on the cooker.

She sighed and headed forth, hoping to catch him as he left the place of drinking and cards.

/

Gabriella had been forced to wait outside the men's club until someone came out and although that person was Ryder, he had actually kindly gone back inside to rouse Troy for her, something she thanked him for politely when he relayed the news to her that Troy was on his way.

When Troy finally stepped onto the wooden porch, she looked at him expectantly.

"I made dinner…" she said only, wrapping her arms around herself to keep off the chill.

Troy nodded and slipped off his jacket, coming closer.

"I didn't know you were going to cook for me…I had some business to take care of," he explained as he helped her on with his warm coat.

She shivered into it and smelled his musky scent on the fabric.

"Are you done with business?" She asked.

He smiled and cupped her cheek. "If you want me home then I'm done," he assured, sensing her unspoken words of insecurity.

"I'm not going to make you come home," she arched, stepping back and frowning.

He tilted his head, pursing his lips.

"I want to try whatever it is you cooked for me," he admitted, wondering if his words would ease her agitated state.

She darted him a look. "It's probably burned by now."

"Well, let's go home and look," he reached for her hand to start walking, but she just looked at him.

"'Brie?" He checked.

She turned and walked, just ahead of him so that he had to follow and he couldn't help the amused smile that played about his lips. If only she knew what 'business' he had been attending to in the tavern then she might not be so mad at him, but he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

When he came inside his small shack, he smelled the delicious beef right away and noted her rather heavy decanting of the food onto the counter while she served it up, slamming his plate before him as he tucked in a napkin to his shirt.

"This is amazing, 'Briella," he nick-named her affectionately. "I didn't know you could cook…"

"It's not going to be a frequent occurrence," she assured under her breath.

He smirked at her muttered words.

"Are you mad at me?" He broached.

She swallowed. "A little," she admitted.

"I really am sorry I wasn't home when you expected me," he extended.

"You're your own man," she excused lightly.

"No, I'm _your_ man," he adjusted sweetly. "I just had a lot to catch up with."

_Like getting your wedding dress material ordered through Taylor at market and asking the priest while he was half-drunk to marry us…_

She nodded. "It can't be helped."

He reached across the table and cupped her hand that balled with clutching her fork tight enough to break the thing in two.

"I have something I want to ask you," he ventured, figuring this was coming a little sooner than he planned, in fact this wasn't the way he had planned it at all, he was hoping for them to ride out to Jonah's Canyon and watch the sun going down. It was a spectacular sight and some might say it was romantic.

"Go ahead," she invited, standing her knife and fork up as she continued to grasp them tightly.

Troy pulled his napkin out of his shirt and stood, scraping back his chair, Gabriella looked at him nervously as he came closer and then she frowned as he knelt beside her, taking her hand with his as he looked up with an adoring smile.

"You know how I feel about you, I know it happened quick, but I love you and I proved that with my body last night…" He began, licking his lips nervously.

"Troy..?" Gabriella flicked her eyes over his face in silent question.

"I know you like to do things the right way and you won't want to be wandering about town without something to show that last night means something," he broached.

"I have your promise," she held up the tribal ring he had presented to her.

"Well, I want to do this right," he said again, taking a breath. "Will you marry me, 'Brie? Will you be my wife?"

Gabriella sucked in a breath and marveled at his proposal. Was he serious?! Of course she would! Wild horses wouldn't stop her! She bit her lip and let a happy sob escape her chest as she sank down from her chair and slid her arms around his neck, leaving Troy to hold her to him bemusedly.

"Is that a yes?" He checked.

She laughed with a hitch and nodded. "Yes!" She assured while tears streamed down her face. "Yes, yes, yes," she repeated, pulling back to kiss him on the lips strongly, then over his face, along his jaw.

"Hey, hey...!" He laughed, cupping her face, kissing her tenderly.

"Yes," she said again softly, melting into another kiss that wrapped her up in his arms and brought them tightly together in sharing their intense emotions.

"My father," she gasped as she broke away mid-embrace.

"Your father what?" He gently stroked her face with his thumbs.

"You have to ask permission," she winced. "It's tradition…"

He smiled slowly, kissing her mouth and nuzzling her nose.

"I already have," he shared, waiting for her response.

"What?" She sucked in a breath of surprise.

"I wrote to him. I told him who I was, that I was applying to have your name cleared but that I would like you to stay here with me and work on some new plans to help the poor and that I had fallen in love with you and to make it proper that I wanted to ask your hand in marriage…" He described in detail with a light in his eyes that entranced her.

"And he said yes?" She wondered.

He grinned. "Daddy said yes."

"But he hasn't even met you!" She cast.

"He said he didn't need to. I impressed him enough in my telegram to go ahead and propose."

"Wow," she frowned, perturbed that her father would let a near-stranger ask for her hand in marriage when he didn't know how _she_ felt about it.

"Did I do the wrong thing?" He brushed his knuckles down her cheek worriedly.

"No," she assured quickly. "Not you. I thought my father might ask to speak to me before you asked, that's all."

He nodded. Women didn't have the luxury of turning down marriage proposals but he was glad Gabriella and he were in love because he knew her answer was real.

"He asked me to bring you home after I asked you," he admitted.

She looked up, appeased. Finally, she smiled.

"Is that what you were busy doing today?" She wondered. "Staging your proposal?"

He rose up off the floor and cradled her in his arms.

"Actually I was planning a much better place to do this," he mused. "I'll take you there tomorrow…but I was making some plans for the wedding today," he shared. "I hope you don't mind."

"We're to be married right away?" She lifted her brows at his keenness, secretly touched by it.

"If you fall pregnant, I know you wouldn't want it to be out of wedlock," he shared.

She smiled and felt tears broach her eyes and she cupped his face.

"You're amazing," she kissed him happily.

"I asked the Priest to marry us and I got Taylor to order that material you liked," he added proudly. "She'll make the dress however you want it."

Gabriella looked at him with softness in her eyes. She really had it all, she realized.

"I wanted to grow my hair," she complained softly of his urgency. But he was right, they had taken that step to being physical and it was frowned upon in these times; no matter how modern she wanted to be about her attire.

He leaned down and kissed her. "I don't want to wait," he smiled. "I want everyone to know that I'm yours, right away."

"That I'm yours, you mean!" She giggled at his deliberate mistake in not owning her.

He shrugged. "That too."

She reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck.

"I can't wait to marry you, Troy Bolton," she murmured softly in his ear.

"Me either," he murmured back as he held her tightly to him.

/

Making love after Troy's proposal was so natural, so real that every touch and every kiss meant so much more in this moment.

His lips were strong on hers, his body wrapped hers up until she was all but lost but then the pace slowed and their touches became deliberate, intense.

His lips travelled her body with tender journey, her hands roamed with the sole intention of knowing him, every inch and muscle precisely.

They came together bared by the other; falling onto Troy's bed that sat mere feet from where their foreplay started.

Troy rolled over, covering her with his shielding form. He could be crushing her but she cried out and arched in want for him, assuring him he wasn't hurting her in any way.

He drove into her, as gently as he could manage and her slickness eased his conscience. She was so wet for him. He paused and kissed her mouth for long moments in awe.

"God, you're amazing," he husked.

She panted, lifted her chin and urged him to move within her.

"You won't hurt me," she promised breathily.

He knew he wouldn't, he mused, withdrawing and pushing back within her with the tenderness he should have showcased the first time.

His thrusts were like the undulating waves of an ocean, his kisses soft and frequent. Every now and then their gazes would meet and they'd silently cry out, mouths open in soundless pleasure.

As it was, Gabriella began calling his name as a very sweet, very slow ebb began deep within her, threatening to break.

"Troy…Troy…" she panted.

He went as slow as his body allowed. He held her tight and kissed her. His own control was on a knife-edge as he went deep, deep inside her body and lost himself there in her tightness.

She locked him inside of her as she tightened and beautiful rain fell about them, shimmering her skin as she jolted beyond her control with pleasure. She clutched his shoulders, enjoying their manly protection as Troy caught his breath and kissed her mouth lovingly as she recovered.

"With you, it's beautiful," she murmured, holding him close in the epic moment. It was a moment she gladly wouldn't let go. A moment she treasured.

"It's supposed to be," he nuzzled her throat and withdrew from her body as he slid down the bed in her arms.

"Thank you," she appreciated. "Thank you for making it perfect."

He smirked. "You were there, too, Brie."

She shook her head. "Some men take their women with no regard. No kisses, no touch…"

She had heard about such men from the girls at the house.

"You are way too beautiful not to touch," Troy assured, moving to encompass her in his arms but where his weight didn't pin her to the bed.

Gabriella smiled at his compliment and rolled over to cuddle with him.

"My father really said yes?" She checked again, snuggled in his arms, a place she didn't want to leave- ever.

HIs lips curved. "Yes."

"If you hadn't worked it out about me, we might never have had this," she mused.

"Good job I'm a bright prairie dog, then," Troy drawled, stroking fingers down her short hair.

"Did you know from the very start?" She wriggled, casting her thigh over his to be closer. Her fingertips slid across the mountain of his chest until her palm settled against his heart, feeling the strong thrum of it.

"I knew something was up as soon as I saw those pretty chocolate eyes of yours," he admitted.

"John didn't guess," she mused at his deduction.

Troy tightened is arms to draw her closer.

"The man is an idiot," Troy observed. "What did he do to you?"

He knew she had been half-starved, her slim frame bore evidence still to it but he was pleased to see her putting on weight now- in places he liked seeing it.

She sighed. "It doesn't matter now. I wasn't there long."

Troy reached over to kiss her forehead.

"I saw bruises. And scars," he added, figuring John must have kicked her with his spurs one or twice.

She tensed in is arms.

"Do they lessen my desirability?" She asked vulnerably.

He groaned and wrapped both his arms around her small form, kissing her again.

"Not in the slightest," he assured. "But I'd like to know what he did to you."

"Anything he did to me was whilst he thought I was a man," she justified.

"That's no excuse," he murmured, letting her relax back against him.

"I just got pushed around," she shared shyly of her time in prison.

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," she mused. "I knew the risk I was taking when I took those things. I duped people to protect my life. A few bruises mean nothing."

"I won't let you get hurt again," he promised with that husk that made her shiver.

"I wish I could protect you, too," she murmured of is job.

He smiled. "I'm a wily old coyote. I'll try my best to stay safe for you."

Gabriella settled against him, wondering if they would sleep now or make love some more. Troy was holding her in a way that made her wish they could do both.

She stretched her thighs apart a little in the hope he might read her small signal. He turned his head to kiss her, eventually rolling onto his side to deepen the kiss.

"Do you want me again already, princess?" He asked in a low voice that told her just how that idea turned him on.

The press of his arousal was another telling sign.

"Yes," she admitted on a wanton sigh, cupping his face.

He obliged her, every hard inch of him sinking deep, deep into her and drawing ecstatic cries from her lips as he groaned deep in is throat and fought the animal within that wanted to take her, every last bit of her until she could no longer move.

He wanted her to be so sensitive, so turned on that she mewled at the merest touch or move. He wanted to stay in this bed, coupled this way until his seed ran dry and she no longer wetted for him. He wanted her, pure and simple.

He called out her name in an almighty roar and their love-making extended into the morning; all around them still and quiet.

He rose to bathe her, gently washed her and tested her soreness after hours of his bruising body filling hers. She hid her whimper, feigned a lack of pain. He kissed her temple as they bathed, promised to let her heal as he cupped her curls down low, staking claim to her femininity.

Afterwards they slept soundly until midday when Troy's grumbling stomach woke them both and only then did they venture out in search of lunch, hand in hand.

"Oh, you two look just perfect together," Poppy Wilkins spotted them and complimented.

Gabriella blushed. "Thank you."

"It's nice to see you happy, Sheriff," she told Troy.

Troy smiled. "It's been a long time coming."

"Is there to be a wedding?" The woman asked with interest.

Gabriella swallowed.

"Soon," Troy said only and then Poppy took it upon herself to view Gabriella's rings.

"Looks like the Sheriff finally made the Latina his," Ryder commented as he came out of the store upon the scene.

Gabriella darted her eyes up at the man.

"Congratulations," he said, looking to Troy. "You're a lucky man."

Troy nodded. "That I am."

Gabriella slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm.

"We're going to lunch, do excuse us," Troy told the pair as they moved off.

It was after lunch they came over to the whorehouse to spend time with Taylor. Troy left her there while he took care of some Sheriff business and Gabriella found herself happily embraced into a world she never imagined she could be a part of.

Finally she felt like things were coming together.

"That's a happy face," Taylor teased lightly of her friend.

Gabriella blushed a little shyly. "It might not last," she commented, thinking that this feeling surely couldn't last forever.

Taylor smiled at her. "It might, too."

Gabriella smirked. "I hope so."

"Let's get the material and start measuring for your bridal gown," Taylor suggested.

Gabriella's face filled with an inexplicable glow.

"Great idea, Taylor…"

/

That's how Troy found them; Gabriella up on a foot stool while Taylor made the bare bones of Gabriella's dress and when he came inside, both women quickly chided him for looking and so he was forced to turn away until they had concealed their work and Gabriella was re-dressed.

He felt her arms wrap around his waist from behind and her small body fit to his back.

"Hi, Sheriff," she greeted him finally.

"Hi future-wife," he turned in her arms to cuddle her in return and Taylor smiled upon her friends happily.

"Why don't you both stay for dinner?" She suggested.

Gabriella looked up at her man with a smile.

"We have plans," she told Taylor with a giggle and Troy just tightened his arms around her and tipped his cheek to the top of her head.

"You heard the woman," he added softly.

Taylor nodded knowingly, lifting her half-done dress. "I'll stash this safely upstairs," she told Gabriella. "You two should be getting back now," she mused of their plans.

Gabriella bit her lower lip and looked up at Troy.

"How was work?"

He turned his lips down. "Quiet. Thank god."

She nodded. "Can we go home now?"

He smiled and took her hand to walk with her, both shouting their farewells to Taylor as they shut the door behind them.

/

The evening found them having a small supper followed by lying together on Troy's sofa; Gabriella cuddled in his arms.

She had begun kissing him a couple of times but they both knew her body needed some time to recover; they were both insatiable for each other but being together in any way was blissful enough without making love all the time.

Troy was stroking his fingertips across her scalp; through the short strands of her hair and occasionally he'd place a kiss against her forehead while she snuggled into his strong body and enjoyed his heat surrounding her.

"Can we go see my parents soon?" Gabi broached, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder as her small hand curled against his chest.

"Does this weekend suit you?" He replied, ready to fulfill her request.

She nodded. "They should meet you," she mused. "And hear it from me that I'm happy."

He ran his hand up and down her arm. "Will your mom want to see your dress?"

She fidgeted. "They can always come stay before the wedding."

"It's not long now," he reminded and she smiled softly.

"I know," she murmured, happy and excited.

"I can't wait." He admitted.

"Are you having a bachelor party?" She wondered.

It was traditional for men to spend an evening of with their male friends, drinking whiskey and enjoying whores while they waved goodbye to their bachelor life and meanwhile the bride to be would spend the night in quiet enjoyment with her female friends receiving gifts of lingerie.

Gabriella didn't like the idea of Troy 'sowing his wild oats' before their marriage but she also understood the social importance of such events in a man's life.

Troy was considering Gabriella's question with pursed lips.

"I could invite a few guys over," he supposed.

Gabi propped herself up and looked him in the face, kissing his lips.

"You're entitled to a night at the whore-house," she stated bravely with a swallow.

He smiled lop-sided at her. "I don't want anyone else," he assured.

She smiled back. "Your friends might tease you."

He chuckled. "I'm sure they will! But I'm yours now," he met her eyes and promised.

She kissed him again, strong and sweet.

"And I'm yours, Troy. My heart belongs to you," she added quietly, almost afraid to admit such a thing. Such sentiment was not usually encouraged but right now, lying in his arms she didn't much care. She couldn't help how she felt and it filled her with overwhelming excitement that he felt the same way.

Troy grasped her hand and placed her palm over his thrumming heart; against his chest.

"Mine belongs to you too," he stated very huskily, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb as she let the beats of his heart absorb into her palm.

They began to kiss, very slowly; very deeply as though this moment was defining for the feeling they each felt in their souls. Life was going to be created inside of Gabriella; their lives would be lived together, in harmony and in the tough times, they'd have the promise of marriage to remind them of the love they shared.

There was nothing more amazing than that.


End file.
